Don’t regret Act III of Macbeth,
Hold firm the picnic in the glade.
Walk out of the clouds
My daylight dream.
Work the noble sorrow,
Forget the temptations
The cottage porn industry
Tellico offers behind shuttered walls.
Lay your hands on my
Gravel heart, once granite obelisk.
Tour Reliance after dark,
In convertible farm trucks.
Open local cans of green beans,
Stuff them in fresh trout
Caught from the river where
Black men still fear to fish.
Spare the pained Pastor that
Martyrs his flock,
Leave the new highway for
Smart cars and Axis imports.
I sold my birthright
For a nightmare fantasy.
Don’t curse your prison,
Become its warden.
Breathe the wind,
Smile with the rain,
Warm the hollow
Knight’s chambers anon.
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