A Post-Covid Journey Through Media


1: Bee and PuppyCat


some of us are born to be mothers

                    or born to be fathers,

others only to inhabit the shape of a monster,

wherein the cradle of our bodies

encages just a carcass of the kid we were

                              whilst the kid we are

wanders far outside the cradle bars, cloaked in vomit, poverty and stars.


at least

they can’t call us failures to launch;

since we do in fact walk the black of space,

be it with but a partial tank of gas and only change for

                                                  lunch, none for ourselves.

at least we earned that change

by being —- at something.


but we cannot call us

back to the spice of youth; we cannot

bake, we cannot wait, cannot make


cannot say

we’ve made





what an embarrassment to pay your way there

in coins.