POEM EN FORME DE SAW

I ducked out of sight behind the saw-mill nobody saw me because of the falls the gates the sluice the tourist boats the children were trailing their fingers in the water and the swans, regal and smarty, were nipping their "little" fingers i heard on swan remark "That was a good nip though they are not as interesting as sausages" and another reply "Nor as tasty as those peasants we got away from the elephant that time" but i didn't really care for conversation that day i wanted to be alone which is why i went to the mill in the first place now i am alone and hate it i don't want to just make boards for the rest of my life i'm distressed the water is very beautiful but you can't go into it because of the gunk and the dog is always rolling over, i like dogs on their "little" feet i think i may scamper off to Winnipeg to see Raymond but what'll happen to the mill i see the cobwebs collecting already and later those other webs, those awful predatory webs if i stay right here i will eventually get into the newspapers like Robert Frost willow trees, willow trees they remind me of Desdemona i'm so damned literary and at the same time the waters rushing past remind me of nothing i'm so damned empty what is all this vessel shit anyway we are all rushing down the River Happy Times ducking poling bumping sinking and swimming and we arrive at the beach the chaff is sand alone as a tree bumping another tree in a storm that's not really being alone, is it, signed The Saw