Poem: Hamlet of Masks

 

Hamlet of Masks

 

to create or not?

to suffer the shames and

stings from blooms of realm

below a numb-bound surface;

or to abdicate truth and feeling,

plaster a bland fear

over the trek of Veracity’s hunt?

such is the pivotal itch,

hinged on the closure or consciousness  

of unreadable dreams.

which may come:

a time shorn hell more cutting than

than the dull shear of clocks,

or a revel of lovely purpose,

shucking the fluff and

staid serenity of ordered sheep?

this is the riddle, this mystagogue,

whose eyes face to mock me,

loomed in the mirror,

if i dare raise my overgone skull

and ponder such contours and cavities,

the dizzy tunnels and glims which carve out beds,

seductive yet treacherous of play,

affairs most misty of motive,

when i struggle to ride them

or circumvent. 

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10/12 ... eds... not my style...

10/9/26 .. replaced "would they" with "to"

10/8/26 ... flipped positions of "numb" and "staid"

10/7/26 eds.. difficult vocab issues, phrasing 

glim = candle, etc.

 Pleasantville-ish