Art, Life, Trickster

Con-Men and Cwena…


Talking to door-knobs,

is one way of opening doors…


‘Maam, charmed,’ sez the Wolf-of-Oz,

oozing oblique obsequies,

rather than, ‘Alacazan!’


A coarse coercement, of course,

amid the unexpungeable stench

of paint-oil: ‘Serpentine’.


 Warning: jerk at work!


A snerk… A snarl…

so doggedly erased still

somehow manages to canvas

and convey the very image of selfdom.


Has our childhood Jester

finally come of age

by impersonating canines;

‘Ha-riff… Ha-riff… Ha-riff’?


Such tired tricks wane…


Before the fall,

camera clad grotesques

clamour to view his curtain call.


A skip, a hop, a ring

for the hands,

and Rumple…





Cell doors, however,

are seldom quite so easy

to lubricate.


“Can’t you see who it is?”

– Count Jack Black

1 thought on “Con-Men and Cwena…”

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