Home on Derange
Bay mare breeder, electric ether, head crazed
by on goings, sore to touch, touchily.
Tetchy little englander brought down to size
Colour, gender of choice, within boundless
Law: The Right of Light.
Torches rally, burn the beast, cauterize the earth.
Escalation, destination desolation:
regard slow time; report the truth; received
communication distorts, parts words apart.
Darwin’s social agents popped in for a peep,
Pick up old confetti, soaping soft,
the right boys to do a boy’s job. Inside
a cringe (a swallowed outburst still emits gas)
and a barbed stiletto of rebuke.
They and I are hamstrung by pace, them too
much, me too little. Who is piggy in the middle?
The I of the storm The individual…
The news is abroad, I wish it well on
its journey to ignorance, words are so cheap
They are Free