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


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..

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