MR CRITICAL

They call me Mr Critical
Mr Critical is my name
I can find the flaw in a feather
the crack in a drop of rain.

I’ve been granted authority
by the Holy Whatchamacallit
all you Masters of Shoveling Shit
I be the one to haul it
and all your mighty Engines of Wit
I be the one to stall it

I was born under a baldhead moon
I sucked on a milkless breast
whooped with a barbwire rattle
my dolly was a hornet’s nest

I run off my teachers with a two-handed axe
I burned my school to the ground
if I don’t know it, it can’t be known
and now I’ll tell you how.

Call me Mr Critical
Mr Critical is my name
I can find the flaw in a feather
the crack in a drop of rain.

 

(unrecorded, published in QUADRANT)