…

minding your missives
like so & so’s post-it-notes
( please excuse the gaps )

the last gasp staggers
on let’s bee avenue
( perhaps – the mishaps )

rearranged faces
of the tangibles & not
( guess which one frowns next )

you became paper
scribbled with the spider’s ink
( black plus white is grey )

now is yesterday
then is when the cowslips come
( home from the green fields )

…

…

we became a tree
with skin as hard as bark
& squirrels upstairs

the woodpeckers peck
the winter storms test us all
with bellowing bursts

of blow yer own horn
but we’re the giants’ hatstands
– owls were here last night –

in the woodland’s bowels
in the here of fade away
waiting for that spring

to reboot like feet
even though we now have roots
in am-dram workshops

…