untitled #23

flash before me once again
sparse images that might have been
and rest within
the folds of pages
never turned
composed
in sin

The Story of an Artist

The spider doesn’t know how beautiful

her web looks, all coated in frost.

This is because, of course,

the cold killed her.

It is also because of This,

that we consider her an artist,

rather than an inconvenient pest.

Unnatural Bird

Even the mindless pigeon
who has never lived
outside of a paved city
and whom has no words to articulate
nor even conceive of a forested land
no scope of a natural existence
must feel some dissonance
some deep wrongness
when it eats a pizza crust
outside the Dollarama.