Under the Hat

August 02, 2020

Des-prayer-ately excavating endless ways

I ask a zimmer-frame in-brain resource to walk upon

To end of days

Thought guns inside my hide, plays bronco-rides..

My bridling.... let me go...

Briefly a light soft tapping welcome at my shoulder’s


Or a hand my holster, harness, loosening fastenings

Break, unbound me, freed

No more distraught thought-corridors, reheated cups of tea

A speck, a dash, of mustard to revive a lumpen clay

I who am overturned, whose throes of hand grenades

Have made in murderous virtuous murmurs multiples

Of saturation bombings

Laying about me lashings, thrashings; grasp, reorder me

Bid autumn skies shape mellow tones for roundup

There’s sickness in the normal; watch our hourly flick flirtations,

And ask and see.

Our regimen a psychopath, endemic accide

Unveils us tales of who we are, declares where nature she

Still drawls,

“You’re not half big enough for me yet, with all your tricks and tools”

She’ll have you down, a great throw stounds the carpet,

And no new glues, emollient juice, or oils, nor ever heal

Sold on the market:

She renders back to roofless undress common clods of earth

Caught-up in-mind, confuted, cuffed, rebounded in my plea

I implore The Learned Three

Lambasted, birched, hied-in, infuriated

And then to the next tree

And suddenly, you’re the hanging

You’re payday entertainment, the late-night date celebrity

Shots bang – comes winding in the US cavalry

Hands-up! The crucial fix on aging raised, arriving,

With bugles and John Wayne along The Chisholm Trail

Pulling a box-office, box-office once a whale

Unheard of now, all fished-out, in come punctual CGI

Exhuming as viral life a simulacrum done for real

A framework for our world: a fail in forward falsenesses

Virtual its physicality and darkness visible

As solid Milton voiced it: midnight sway rejoices

And grateful Satan pleases, loves apostasy

Let me get out of here; not pain-drawn, fearfully,

Let God invite me in; at his behest, his ballot when


So send to me, my God, in love, some pasture new

And native to that company whose glorious issue

Speaks all to all to do you honour: let enough suffice