an episodically published poem
link to beginning
The suit of lights is spread upon my tiny altar
iMadre de Dios! I shall strut and pose and never falter
See each strap and bow and ribbon that I tighten
And know this: I’m one no bull can ever frighten
Kneel I now before the icons stark and serious
Know this, O tyrants of the skies, I’m furious!
Wrapped in my cape of blood I face the long corrida
And know this corridor can make losers of succeeders
And now I face the moment grim and full of terror
They want to change my script, and that’s an error
I shall tell them both: producer and director too
I stand no bull: no changes will I make — that’s true
Well maybe just a word; but no more or it’s awful
I’m glad we had this chat — it’s civilized and lawful.