Thirty years ago today
On Tuesday evening I posed for the Don Valley Art Club. They gave me the negatives and some prints of the photographs they took several weeks before that of my daughter and I. I got a ride directly to the Gladstone Hotel so I would be on time to set up the Art bar for my Orgasmic Alphabet Orgy weekly writers open stage. There were a record eleven people there this time and I performed my cockroach poem:
Insect Angels
Trace the paths of roaches
in their errands every day
and see the portrait
of god the pattern shapes
As above so below
the true form of human souls
not lava lamp or globe
but more like a cockroach
There's no feathers on angels
They flit with the wings of insects
made of translucent stained glass windows
for the bug god they protect
When you drown your roaches
you'll see vestigial wings
It's this holy baptism
that brings angels into being
So dip your pens in roach guts
when you write your daily prayer
their envelopes will only fly
when STAMPED
with proper fare
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