FREE
BUSTED FLAT IN BATON ROUGE WAITIN FOR A TRAIN
NOTHIN’ DON’T MEAN NOTHIN’ HON IF IT AINT FREE
Jack hammers jacking Off my rocker with dogs
barking until 3 a.m. Unholy Urban Quarter
Even the skunks have been displaced by hipster’s
skunky weed I’m taking my neighbour to court +
if I become Prez I’ll send her to jail Mark me
Last time I saw her clouds of skunky-smoke wafted
around her hair extensions They’ll never take my dogs
away Today wedged between a stinking squirrel + a
dead chickadee I write these words to insulate myself
from the meek
Now wrathful over Gordie’s impending leave taking
You will not steal the silence nor wrest the last pink
macaroon from me Citydweller! I implore you:
Do not dwell on being free
__
(Peter Mansbridge to Gord Downie re: his terminal brain cancer)
Peter: Does it hurt?
Gord: No
__
How is it that we mortals get bright eyed
because a dress is blue and has a bow?
I take a sip and the water is bitter,
and I think: Sex is frail,
even the sex of men.
(Adelia Prado 1978 Poet Laureate Brazil)
Fall 2016 smell that smell the smell of snow surrounds you

