21 October 2016

A Tick In Time

Admitting scrub ticks find you more delectable than 
a mainstream audience begets no surprise; if it did, 
heaven forbid. In a word t’ the wise stick with those 
epicurean ticks - they’re truer to their predilections, 
or basal affectations, than any literary bent wished 
upon you by metrical bones of contempt; as poetry 
it has unarguable rights - but where it begins there 
it ends - tho’ very unlike a tick’s ministrations, and 

So far from fair or foul until th’ itch to scratch bares 
testimony where you’re left with rare analogies too 
bizarre to be comforting - and anyway who cares if 
you see thru an homology between fares and ticks 
demanded in this age of intransigence - you’ll ride 
the train anywhere to be free that colossal inanity 
© 16 May 2016, I. D. Carswell

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