"It's about words, and words are all I have…"



Yesterday a friendly +handsome roofer  leaned in close

He said: Are you afraid to get your hands dirty?  Now

handing me a..  (would this be brothers un-pc joke  ie.,

You’d pet anything ?)  No!  He handed me a moist bundle

Twigs  foam  caulking    No one has ever given such a gift

to me


Yes Corey  roofer of my dreams  my hands are dirty   Quite

sullied   from my years spent in the trenches of humanity  With

the suffering   Digging in the dirt  as husband #3’s analyst  in a

Brixton accent  said of Psychotherapy  He also regularly chimed

re my biting wit: She said that!?    Yes    I did


Now I sit with this early nest  discarded  as Peregrines ate the

first chicks of house wrens  Corey also said: I want you to feel the

moisture my dear    Such a gentle roofer  And feel it I did   Perhaps

a little birdy-blood on fingertips   Wash as I might  this stigmata is

permanent   Reminding me of fledgling parts of Self   They never saw

the light of day   Couldashouldawoulda  Actor  Dancer  Rodeo Queen


As Corey left  he said: Now pet this   Stiff  upper lip  fancy lady   This

here leak may never reappear   That’s the thing about water  + beauty

One is wily and the other indifferent    I sit back +marvel at my roofer’s

dialectic   and wish I had met him years ago    Before exile set in



Homo Sapiens is the only species 

to suffer psychological exile.

E.O. Wilson




Spring  2018


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