Mr. Cogito: Of Hell and Hens

Pandemonium

John Martin, Pandemonium, 1841

Someone tell me

Am I a bad taste hen

Clucking over a

Comical egg

 

I will become a

Psyche-piercing harpy

Clucking over her

Monstrous chick

 

Such is my faith

Or audacity—

 

Should my lord

Agni be Lucifer

 

I will ask for the smallest window

In rising

Pandemonium

 

Jewel toned stained glass

In his glory

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Plathian Rhapsody: Garbled

The cringing kicked cur

is my uncle

boyish at sixty

his ninety-year father

has snapped

over a television

on which an impoverished cousin

exposes her baby’s pubic

hair she is suing the baby

food maker says the smart flirty newswoman:

 

Did you think you could start anew?

Vengeance is the Lord’s

When the world tree dies

its flowers bear no fruit

try to explain to a deaf man

father it was not expensive

I swear

Demon/Hyena: Summarize

They take after their father

you say.

 

Then you enunciate, LOUDer.

 

They take after their father

tiny man one shoulder higher

than the other probably Go Deaf

like him too

 

you tell your mother

at the market

 

I could have had

handsome children

who speak to me

 

you giggle, removing sweets and

bread from her basket

 

your mother eyes you

and says nothing

 

but something glides

under her eyes

and you can’t describe it.