
I have five limbs:
The four you know.
The other one
Is apt to grow
With happenstance
As wifely ways
Dare to chance
Its eager sprays.
Know you how I Ahab love?
His count’nance fits me like the glove
Of cassock Herman spoke thereof.
He cannot love. He cannot love.
And so Ahábic parts in me
I now extract—cranially.
I’ll take yon top-maul and I’ll smash
The brainy pieces into mash.
Pickle that, thou steward, care!
Save it–after I do dare
To choke the tooth of Moby out
Who groin’d me unto such despair.
Oh fever’d night of sleepless hues!
Know I now of duty’d dues
Unto ones word-wracked neural paths
Churned and spun on Lethos’ lathes.
How to close my brain—each strain
Of thought, then verse, how to restrain
These mental heats that burst and show
Me as the cud-chewn spotted cow
That stalks myself like Ahab’s brow?
Pray hie thee hence away from me!
Allow some peace, some fraughtless space
Wherein verses, strain’d, shall be
O!
Hide me, lobster’s carapace!
Winter’s olden, damn-dawn fog–
Teacher glow’ring ‘mid the bog.
Earthen eyes at soulless stares:
Inmates fastened to school chairs.
Stare I back, heart stake at stanchion;
God has stated His injunction.
Do that deed I dare not mention–
Face His dread eternal truncheon.
Note: I found this deep in some records from an especially dark day at work. It may be 18 months old. I mean the good Lord no ill will. In fact, I don’t quite understand what my meaning was. Comments would be, in this entry’s case, most welcome.
My uncle gives me pause, a scare:
He frets to stare at Fred Astaire.
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