The Pirate's Ballade
J. Quinn Brisben
Like pregnant horses marked in caves and funny papers,
These flashing pixels on a glass became an art
Despite the vulgar hands that crafted them for gapers
In need of cud for weary leisure, an easy start
For numbing dreams which form in trifling part
That excess gibber which is us, just something to fill
That awful gap from thought to thing which marks our heart.
These lovely luring shadows shape us still.
The tonic rumbling Rosebud whisper, trickster apers
Who make us see the giant Kong, the mazy mart
Where Pepe Le Moko lurks, brash Cagney's sloven tapers
Who swathe his swaying stiff, the flat rat guards which thwart
The plaguey Palance, the foaming horse before the cart
Which stumbles Scarlett home to Tara, guns that kill
In blazing close-ups, thrills to zoom our fever chart.
These lovely luring shadows shape us still.
When Charlie eats his shoes he is the king of shapers
Of our fantastic dies and molds, too, Buster's dart
Past shot and shell in locomotion sweetly capers
Through some bright synapse always. Henry's brimming quart
Of ale in Laughton's fist, the melting tearful tart
Loyal to her hooligan are always on the bill
To color works and days, keep mind and murk apart.
These lovely luring shadows shape us still.
I've stolen every one for you, my dear, in part
Because I love you, also, I'm reeling drunk with art,
With memories of dreams which bend us as they will.
These lovely luring shadows shape us still.
