You haven’t fed us recently.
I ate the goldfish,
For some reason it reminded me of my childhood.

I can’t get over that guy with the mask in the corner.
It’s unnerving how he swims up and down all day.

Is this going to be another starving day?
I’m tired of trying to get your attention.
You haven’t fed us recently,
Or cleaned the tank.
That’s okay,
The cleaner-fish loves it.
The goldfish doesn’t like the cleaner-fish much though.

Thanks for the flakes!

I think I’ve finally intimidated the cleaner-fish,
He’s been looking at me weird all day,
He keeps trying to keep me ahead of his gills.
I knew I’d be King soon.

The goldfish,
She’s gone.
What did you do with her?!

Are you going to feed us now?

Whose women these are I think I know.
His housefly’s dead on the vignette though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his women pick snowdrops.

My little hornpipe is quite queer
He stops without a farce or sneer
Between the women with their frozen ‘la’s
The commonest everyman of the yawl.

He gives his harlot beldams his shaft
To assure they are his mistresses.
The only other soundtrack's the sweat
Of easy win from downing flagons.

The women are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promenades to keep,
And migraines to go before I sleep,
And migraines to go before I sleep.

Suppose a fog a real fog that means to say that means to say a fog, a creative fog with more sinks first lights.
All the tin is needing flattening.
Suppose seven water, suppose two water, suppose five sand.
A Canadian sign is nearly numb.
White pointers white pointers in yellow dash be.
White pointers white rays expecting rumble rumble, rumble rumble.

paws pause on pavements -
a union fresh out of blackmail -
waste collectors
start sizzling
new trash - contemporary psychotic disorders are
goon makers -
purple heads on
blue bodies cause a skirmish -
you're happy
you're shameless
little piggies in a bay of meat -
fast track to coffee cup sleeves -
I believe in Mississauga
soap operas -

It is was this which teaches
Taught me
Ambi
Dex
Terity,
Though of
Left hand
Teeth
Tooth-brushing
My knowledge is rough;
It was is those these
Sunny
Dusty
Sunny afternoons in the sun,
The sun at the right angle
Angled towards me,
But not in my eyes
And the black
Fabric
Black, even in the sun,
As a field against which the
Sun angled out of my eyes
Shines
Shone
Sunny directly on my hands,
To which advantage
My advantage,
Or yours,
Would allow me
To pluck with tender
Specific
Tender care
Each thin blonde thin hair on my knuckles.
I already have will always doubt that you notice
Or notice that I notice you don’t, you never notice;
I notice you noticing me noticing you not noticing
My perfect,
Thin-blonde-thin, blonde-hair-free knuckles.

At 3 a.m.
               I’m awake still.
Of this ashen night
                I’ve not had my fill.

Apparently all
              Apathy congeals
As hours elapse
              And at last justifies
  
Procrastination;
               Placating initially,
Shortly producing
              My pretty folly

This habitual hang-up
               Helps only those who
Have the predisposition
                To hang themselves too.

Stop light,
Tail light,
Brown snail on
Blue door tonight;

Strip mall,
Pocket call,
Phantom shadow
Standing tall.

That queasy diner
At Main and Piner.
“No Pain, No Gain”:
Marquee headliner.

Kids at play
In parks by day,
With darkened eve,
“Inside!” Obey.

Blackened alley,
Wet **** in Sally,
The flash of knife,
Sticky finale.