The Old Fool
Michael G. Rather, Jr.
To strip down to a shirt and mourn in the woods,
I would have to find a forest not mapped.
And there is no place left to be quixotic
In this world. There is no place left
Where rusted arms can be carried
And an exhausted horse rode.
There are no dreamers eating grass,
Crying tears enough to feed the streams,
Drinking rain out of trees. I cannot write
Sonnets in the dirt without being given
Some pill to forget my sadness and madness.
The old fool living with legends and rusted lances
At his hip is missing. He was last seen admiring the blue lights.
I would have to find a forest not mapped.
And there is no place left to be quixotic
In this world. There is no place left
Where rusted arms can be carried
And an exhausted horse rode.
There are no dreamers eating grass,
Crying tears enough to feed the streams,
Drinking rain out of trees. I cannot write
Sonnets in the dirt without being given
Some pill to forget my sadness and madness.
The old fool living with legends and rusted lances
At his hip is missing. He was last seen admiring the blue lights.
M. Rather, Jr. is a poet, writer, and Historical European Martial Arts amateur. His work has appeared in numerous online and print journals and anthologies like The Greensboro Review, The Smoking Poets, Adagio Verse Quarterly, Subterranean Blue Poetry, West Texas Literary Review, and Star 82 Review. He has written reviews for Concho River Review. He sometimes teaches composition and literature at SOWELA Technical Community College where he is currently Dean of Instruction.