Jimmi Canada Poet Prose Poetry

I See Faces

I see faces,

sober races-

covalent bases,

upon crazes,

upon laces.


I say hi that I know her,

get by on some glow worms,

grow guys in the sojourns-
holy as the phone burns...

High tech would have a job,

but the buying neck would have a slob,

so why get robbed at the kabob
when the higher rent is only as true as a mob?


'Cause there is no escaping the jobs-
slamming of doors or weighing of the stops,

you've gotta be a bob,

make sure you've got friends to cast off.

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