or, Wow:
Six for Thirty-one. Such Logoyalty!
if only to
not mention
Just Moved Back In
With My Former Ex,
due to the skyrocketing price of independence
from Previous Exes,
who shall remain namelessly singular
(& already missing my subterranean getaway
[at bargain basement prices,
you'd think the spiders, sowbugs* & centipedes
would be extra] )
*yeah, you know: sowbugs,
the ones I used to know as silverfish,
except they're grey & their only connection to bodies of water
are dank basements &, Dank Sei Gott,
I no longer have to worry about such entomologies,
I'm above it all now, I'm a second storey man
with three cats to either
keep the upwards-of-four-legged ones in check or
just overshadow them in the landing
on their feet for attention-getting department.
Is this a poem?
I'll never know,
nor will the mouse that punctuated
the first evening before bed
in that other place.
But farewell anyway,
it's time to leave the nest
or coccoon, or whathaveyou.
I've got bigger webs to fry than bottles to spin.
Just because The Era of Canora is over,
doesn't mean that even greater harmoniety isn't
in the air
or the wings
(paper beats the rock I
crawled out from under,
& wings beat air).
I'm getting ready to like
a canary sing.
J'arrive, ma chere.
May we each fly, spanish
or otherwise,
vraiment!
No comments:
Post a Comment