The Mad Poet

“The poet forms the young child’s stammering mouth, and turns his ear at a timely hour from obscene discourse; next he also shapes his heart with friendly precepts, castigating harshness, resentment, and wrath. He tells of deeds honourably done, instructs rising generations by the examples of famous men, and consoles the sick and helpless.”—Horace (65-8 BCE)

Am I a fool to purge my bile

when spring comes around?

Am I as sharp as whetted wit

Upon whose blade I’ve ground?

Piss on thy father’s ashes

Unearth the lightning strike

Engorge the bloody leech skin

Send raven into flight

Be good or else delightful

And always sing in tune

For its your right of freedom

To pay your Orphic due

(ut pictura poesis, ut canta poesis?)

In the full moon’s light, Dianna reads

Blood runs from the stones of her eyes

And she sends you, and your rusty lines

Back to anvil and flame

To beat the bear back into his bars