Hamlet At Wittenberg

Arrant knave that I am What should such fellows as I do Crawling beneath heaven and earth Unable to pen the verse The quivering pedant demands Strict to the form, alas Poor Yorick, they do not know him. How stand I then My truth beholden to the mirror Which at the first and now Was and is To hold as ‘twere, nature accountable. Am I man or beast The chief good and market of my time But to sleep and feed? No more. Let me not think on’t. Here be the stops. Though I may be fretted I will not be played upon. Should all occasions inform against me The rest shall not be silence. (Previously published in Some Words: A Place for Poetry, Aug 2004)