moan
ain’t gonna moan no mo
isn’t it time to be happy? but how happy can i be
when a huge piano labelled DEATH is eventually
going to fall not only on me but on you too wonders
george saunders whose lincoln in the bardo gives you
the inside scoop as nothing else in the canon can read
it if you dare for there you will find a chronicle of human
sensation a sensual dismemberment of what it is to be alive
and dead is it the hoarfrost on december windows? etchings
on glass see through to melting tributaries come april +may
when birthdays of departed will bite you and in the shade toads
+lily of the valley wait to enchant and bewart you should you be
fortunate enough to move out of the hurtling piano’s way for another day
and do try not to be bitter while you wait especially about the shrinking
of tumours in people other than your brother’s livers
__
Winter 2018 ..come spring poems galore about sunshine +daffodils.. i will melt you with maudlin joys..
