HANGING WITH WORDS

I don’t know how
they found out

( my old poems )

about my seeing some
new words.

“We’re just good friends
me and the words

we like to
hang out together.”

“You know...
just doin’ stuff!”

StuffstuffWellgiveyoustuff!
they screamed without any punctuation.

My old poems
went back to their books

in a huff
and slammed the covers.

Refused to
even talk to me.

Wanted nothing more
to do with me.

They’d packed their pages.

Left me
with nothing but

blankness.

“We’re going home
to the big thought in the sky!”

“Goodf?@*ingbye!”

The new words
came out from where

they were hiding
behind the wainscot .

“Phew they sure was mad
as hell!”

“Ok!”
I sighed

“Which one of you guys
wants to be a haiku?