Twister

^{To improvise praise for prizes apprises early risers of a phase of surprises.}

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A small sun

This Jolly Rogue (A Dream Language)

Just as sleep can become a rock, only
A jolly rogue can become a dream language
large enough for what a nightmare stands for.
For what are dreams if not the ground
We stand and fight for, eh Horatio?\
And what a stone is, is what a rock can be
When divided too many times—pebbles, sand,
Infinity’s poundage, even a sea of waves—
To make no man a man, or at least to make
A man ground, porous and abiding.

 Horatio, our voyage is poised by the sea.
Its purpose is to provide a resting place

For me (that is, as secure as Claudius’ wife.)
We shall not be allowed a whip or whale
For a while…Besides it’s only pirates who can
cbhSave us both from the pirated souls of
Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. So, stand
Abaft the stern, Horatio. This Jolly Rogue
Will sink all of Denmark; it will let me bury and\
Beguile redream a kingdom yet to come. 

.

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Topiary

 

(in a)
river of seas
(in an)
illogic of white waters
So cold now
(in a) simple C

for smoke
(in)

me bubbles—
a breviary

of illness
(it’s)
seeds to me `

The Weariness of the Spider

1.

Like hunters shooting at stars too far
from earth, the weariness of the spider
is like a dying panther caught
in a trap at the edge of the savanna
as morning surrenders
to the anger of the sun.

2.

As you burn your brand into
the vastness of the savanna.
I will burn my brand into your skin.
My eminence will trap you
and you will be caught
like I was  caught.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 

3.

The spider is a weary lioness
who sits at the fringes of the savana
and thinks, despite the sun’s acuity
she will wait until night to eat.
The stars  will be visible then
And  the hunters  will think
their light is the same light
that shines in her  eyes.

Staged Fight

Enter Hamlet, stage right. To be or not,
He has never acted in a play before.
And Horatio thinks he looks tired and wan,
Too worn down to murder Gonzago, much less
Kill Claudius. He looked more a model for

A stage hand than he did an avenging angel.
Still, a play is a play, and to sell them his version—
To grapple with them— along with
A wandering act of provincial players—
To Horatio seemed an odd way to convict a king

Or to believe a ghost. ‘Your honor,
He over reacted. He must be guilty.’
—of something, for the king could quickly claim
Innocence because of nonsense, a crime
Brought in churlish spite to play in a play.

Yes, the players could speak trippingly on the tongue.
And, sure, they could incorporate certain changes
In the text…. Or hold a mirror up to nature… but…
What of it? Listen: The angels are weeping, and King
Claudius was entertaining, and he is still the host.