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Ode to the housefly, this one particular housefly.


I mentioned I was going to borrow from Kenneth Koch's New Addresses: Poems. Every poem in his collection is an ode, a poem addressed to something. 

I love that idea, and I've decided to write a series of odes myself, just as a writing exercise, not to steal but just to write something, I've hit a dry spell, and well, whatever.

I've written a couple of poems. He wrote a poem called To Life, and I wrote a poem by the same name. It's very different in every way, starting with quality and ending with content. 

As far as I know, Koch didn't write a poem to a housefly. 
I have. 
If he had, it would be better or course, but I beat him to it. 


To the housefly
buzzing and
bouncing off the screen
of the open window

you are obviously unsatisfied
with your surroundings

It's clear you'd like to
get the fuck out of here
you can sense the outside world
yet
it's confounding
illusive
elusive 

In a few days time,
I will find your
desiccated little body
legs up
on the window sill
next to the
aloe plant



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