under the streetlights
the acrid smell
of insect corpses
before their single day
is over they gather
hover around the glare
in the morning a carpet
of carapaces laid out
corrupting in the sun
Douglas Barbour
[log in to unmask]
Recent publications: (With Sheila E Murphy) Continuations & Continuation 2 (UofAPress).
Recording Dates (Rubicon Press).
Done in by creation itself.
I mean the gods. Not us. Well us too.
The gods moved into books. Who wrote the books?
We wrote the books. In whose dream, then are we dreaming?
Robert Kroetsch.
|