Blacker than the pot
For sure, for me to take issue
With a fellow prisoner and poet
Over a bag of lost toiletries. I
Lose things:
A name, an identity, a pair of pinking shears,
A lawnmower, a raison d’etre, a nation,
A universe, an entire Biblical people
Full of pride and trust. Mea culpa,
But while we’re at it, if it is true at all
That the putative pot did once call the aforementioned kettle black,
If these housemaidens are to be believed in the least,
What did the kettle say in return? If
The right hand doesn’t know what the left hand
Is doing, what does the left hand know?
It all? Or only everything? This, by the way,
Is the sound of one hand clapping: whupwhupwhup—
My sorry bad self bitch-slapping you
Across the yard for reasons.
Milkshake, indeed.
Return to the sheep, as the French, for
Reasons so inscrutably theirs, sometimes say.
We needn’t confuse an adage with a cliché:
The one is good for being tired with, the
Other has been known to open tin cans in a pinch. It doesn’t
Do to confuse an angry gorilla with a crossword
Puzzle, but if you find yourself in this desperate
Situation, try doing what I did: blow a heaping handful
Of cayenne pepper in his face. PETA will be at
your door. Paul and Mary will be home.
So, for that matter, will Simon and Garfunkel,
And whatever sorry mess is left of the Byrds.
In conclusion, we say, under the circumstances—
Why under? Why are we forever under
The circumstances? Are we to be oppressed
By a mere preposition? Can’t we for once be
Over them? I myself am over the circumstances.
I reject the circumstances. The circumstances are
Dead to me. I bitch-slap the circumstances
All around the yard, up the stairs and then down again.
True, “under” is a beautiful word. As prepositions go,
It manages to be at the same time sleek,
Slender, and fulsome. It behooves us
To remember God made this preposition.
And who (it is not He), by the way, is accountable
For prepping the prepper of the position?
And what if racer Danica Patrick assumes the pole position?
I cannot believe
I am the only one out there
Sleep-deprived nightly
By these life-as-we-know-it-endangering
Insane linguistic anomalies:
Shout out if you hear me, please.
