i am not a bot

well he would say that

wouldn’t he

 a spider emerging

from behind the oil painting

just hangs there

 mid summer night’s stream

all the bright elvers wriggling

through my fingers

 oh shit

i am so unhappy

there are no pigs in it

there in their mud

the pigs look very happy

oink i say oink

 having seen it

am i now a player

spectator sport

 offering one stone

i see a better stone

goodness me

 the tree that changed its mind

 my schoolmasters’

uproarious nicknames 

are long dead

ultimately was the one word 

that they failed teach me 

 cactus bloom

just what is the point

is answered

 the cat and i 

we have a routine 

me and the cat

 the butterfly’s wings

become one become two

and to think