A Complete Account…

A Complete Account of Statements Superimposed onto Bank Claims

By Marcello Cortese

My intuition has guided me 

to Idiocy: 

that palace of crystal 

disillusions. 

It has a scratch somewhere on it, where 

the Eagerness crush 

gave it an improper blow. 

There is no greater crush than 

my own false acts 

(and their false checks). 

Inside, 

Frenzy is a feed that I am invited to. 

Not as a guest nor entrée, 

but under the prefix appetizer. 

It is a magenta world of jasmine 

rice and paper-trails that stick 

to me like wet toilet paper. 

And I am finished before the night.

My intuition has            guided            me 

deeper to the bed 

of The Fool. 

He has since vanished, save the hat 

and his jingly shoes. 

In the corner, there stands his staff. 

I am naked. And I require clothes.

The room is my own, but within 

skin like this, I am cold with wet. 

I shake with bullish intentions 

And the bells on my hat shake with me.

How dare The Fool. How dare. 

And I am forced to care. 

I am him. 

My intuition. [My intuition.] 

What nonsense 

this hat is.