by the hairs on my chin
& a voice both faraway
& near i'm learning things
for which there are
no words but i'm not
worried they're wordless
no need for everything
to have words or numbers
attached like a key tag
when in the gallery
writing these poems
composing on typewriter
in public performance
i am writing the report
for my master in education
an appendix actually
not the body tattooed
inked with citations
when in the gallery
am not in d'avray 145
with that part of this
trail of poems installation
& i'm not at home
in my bedroom office
with dishes piled up
in a kitchen sink
needing to be washed
when in the gallery
when in d'avray 145
& when in home office
writing & editing the report
worn clothes pile up high
needing to be washed & dried
fridge empties or food rots
before i cook or eat it & dust
grows as i & the yatak shed
today as i walked to carleton street library, I was stop by a young man, with heavy Irish brogue offering a penny poem..
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