- Apr 1, 2001ARTHUR'S CONFESSION
MY POEMS, sad to say, have
folded their wings.
YET AS GALILEO, another victim of torture & dehumanization, always kept
telling his tormentors, "Even so, [the earth] keeps moving!", so also do
I tell you...
(In my case, "they" [my poems] keep moving!)
INCAUTIOUS AS I AM, I have deliberately kept IN the preceding inspired
segment, & J--- has immediately picked up on it!
J---, THE MOST BARBARIC... the most sadistic of the Big Guy's goon
& at this very moment he is hustling off to drop the info secretly into
his boss's lap!
TO ADD INSULT TO INJURY, this monstrous excuse for a human being is
passing this poem round-robin among all his loathsome sidekicks!
ONLY YESTERDAY, the Big Guy buzzes me into his office, but I keep cool &
THAT LAST REMAINING red hair on his forehead is darting about nervously
like a lightning-bolt, as his eyes coldly & emotionlessly gaze upon me
from the cushions of fat surrounding them.
HIS GARGANTUAN NOSE is all aquiver, he mushmouths something like
"OREMUS" while licking his thumb to turn a couple of pages. Next he
produces a filthy, creased bit of paper, &...
O MAMA MARIE, MOTHER MILD!!! HE IS EATING MY POEM!
HE IS LOBBING A GOB OF SPIT ONTO MY ROSE!
POSING as a moron, a hick, just so he can pollute & rape my virgin-pure
HE STAMMERS on purpose as he reads, drawing out each syllable
MY LEGS GIVE OUT... I find myself down on my knees, whimpering... & then
"J--- HAS VERIFIED in this report to me that your attitude on the work
floor is taking a turn for the worse-- each day you are sitting with
your legs further & further apart, & J--- has fully documented frequent
occasions when you've been observed sprawled out full-length underneath
your desk, assuming a posture identical to that of young gangstas who
have totally lost control!"
"NO USE DENYING IT... the facts are right here!" [...]
NOW HE SLIDES his hand onto my shoulder & around my neck, & his eyes
betray his intense interest as I am pressured to explicitly describe my
leg-spreading, etc.-- it's totally nauseating, & I know exactly where
he's going with all this...
I HAVE BEEN SPIED UPON...
my emotional reactions made into sleaze, my secret self degraded, & I am
allowed to say NOTHING about it, since the Big Guy has instigated &
approved the whole thing personally!
AND HERE I AM right on his home-turf being debased by this filthy old
I JUST DON'T GIVE A SHIT anymore about this loud world & the deafening
I'VE GOT NOTHING IN COMMON with those seated near me, slackers & bores.
EVERY HEAD, every morning, groggy from sleep-deprivation, slumps on the
desk before it.
SNORING SOUNDS, like Last Judgment trumpets, ascend slow & stifled above
this global Gethsemane.
I... I ALONE, unflinching & blissful, am rising vertically, high beyond
these zombie companions, like a sprouting palmtree that breaks free
through the floor of a ruin.
SETTING MYSELF APART from discordant noises & odors, I lean my head on
my hand & listen... my heart is beating, still beating...
THROUGH THE UPPERMOST WINDOWPANE my eyes soar into the sky's azure!
--excerpted & adapted from the 16-year-old poet's COEUR SOUS UNE SOUTANE
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