All by instinct ruled
Somebody wanted to kill him during his sleep
He had parried the blow with the hot brick
He had said to his wife
–One in your family tried last night to blow me with a whack out of the map
By instinct alone I grabbed the hot brick and smashed him
First before he fled.
Or she fled – she said.
–Anyway he must be sporting a nasty bruise
By now on the head
Or the face or the shoulder you know
Please be so kind as to in a discreet manner
Ascertain then who might it be.
–You are too friendly with the woman folk of the household
Commenting too favorably on the color of their dresses
And insinuating how healthy and appetizing their bodies look
The man folk don’t see it with such leniency as you’d hope for
And then there are the jealous hags
They feel spurned and affronted if the praise coming their way
Is deemed to be somewhat of less import than the one their rivals get
Or there are those that reckon that you are coming on too strong
–Me? On the contrary no way
Unfailingly too gentle
For instance can never approach the heteroclite spread
Or the blackening pile
Of any suddenly offered bargain
Never dare or care to push away the eager strangers
Vying to get a piece of the shitty loot
Truth is their touch alone repels me excruciatingly...
Soon the abode was in turmoil
His clothes were always wet
His cushions and his bed always wet
His pillows teemed with untamed oblique quirks
Burned films of horrors past
Soot swerved about from new prickly tiny craters
On ceilings and walls
Enigmatic sounds of fetters heavily drawn
Along narrow passages he surely heard
Filtered through the partitions that grew like mushrooms overnight
Lewd anchorites burgeoned from erst homely nooks
They frowned defiance upon the foreigner
He was heckled as any defective too ugly neophyte would...
He screwed up his courage and readied his suitcases
And started his journey at a break-neck pace
Endless vaults and new alleys appeared in the building
New crannies new stands new shops...
A vertigo was his that blatantly unsettled his wits
His reign he was relinquishing bit by bit
He was a pharaoh doomed
He had embarked in that druid business and now he was alone
His acolytes flagging
His vestals and nymphs swooning hither and thither
The unholy mirth of the enemy closing in...
He scratched and growled
Rent were the slimy curtains
Scruffily sighed the imps
Whoever dares impinge into our realm
Anyone who crosses the jinxed causeway in deadly earnest
The lost soul that strode over the unquelled worms of our corpses...
And so on.
He was worn off
In the throes of despair when he found the door
To heavenly outside.
He fell agroof over the flagstones.
Flabby scared on his soiled duff
No longer personable and smooth
He had been just zapped
By the clammy law.
The residual chaos of himself bemoans
Almost instinctively the unfairness of his luck.
Peers from a garret orifice
She seems to hold a parsnip in her bill.
For Every Tib and Tom Cat
15. parsnip in her narrow beak
- ► 2008 (22)
- 20. such ugly remains
- 19. trouble at the cage
- 18. almost caught
- 17. taut ribbons
- 16. bullet through the intruder's head
- 15. parsnip in her narrow beak
- 14. you bet you animal
- 13. the roar of stardust
- 12. dripping cheeks: blenched
- 11. all cross the river [one]
- 10. body or luminous arena
- 9. lights out for you, rather, you jerk!
- 8. it must be that I ain't ready to die
- 7. call the dog Geez-ass
- 6. soldiers : clostridia
- ▼ de setembre (15)
- ► 2006 (20)
- ► 2005 (39)