SAD FANCIES FRET MY BRAIN

SAD FANCIES FRET MY BRAIN

a prose poem by

ROBERT DAVIDSON


Last night I was beat up in a fistfight standing outside the local simply because people have trouble tolerating. People cannot live with one another and having lost moorings I attempt to live escapist-fantasy spending life surfing gothic net sites watching TV news getting bad doses of excess reality. The world as I see it is silly-serious offering zany visions of terror and atrocity while smiling politicians make promises and war and holy clerics preach love and jihad. I am left with such slipperiness of meaning and being deprived of real life gives the shivers. Overcome by the fecklessness of everything I stumble fumble in a world stripped of meaning with fantastic fancies of a brain lost amid the dark frets of antidotal faiths. Outside the pub a bus explodes.

A bomb is a bomb is a fiery bomb on sharp edges of fear the world reeling reacts giddily spinning like a spun wheel amid debris of glass breakage as blue police pop up like mushrooms in the night gunning dead the wrong man running towards the station their guns ejaculating blood and blazing like red brands burning breaking the sharp edges of my brain while the sad world explodes explodes and explodes in a fiery spinning blaze.

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