E.D.
Engteechers
Dys-ease:
Portrait of
The Autist
as Old Dog
Dear Colleagues.
Have you re-read
since high school,
college or higher
forms of your
education any
of the stuff I
have to keep
teaching
year
after
year?
Literature.
Nothing but “the
best that has been
thought and said
in the world.”
Makes me want
to be a better
myn.
Quixotic, sure:
what I do. Or
sick, addicted
to love binging
& purging, self
mutilating; self-
immolate burning
a gemlike flame
churning a hem
locked brain like
some
monk.
I could quit any
time I feel like it
& tempted when
it smells like team
spiritus mundi &
sounds like the fury
of cut-off tales by
a butcher's wife:
ever see such a
sight in your life?
"Gazing up into the
darkness I see my
self as a creature
driven and derided
by vanity; and my
eyes burn with
anguish &
anger."
But I drive
toward the Trophy Club
& Cheddars & see golfers:
municipalities in rain &
drizzle hauling big bags
of clubs to hit small balls
down a fair way, walking
under umbrellas or even
upright, exposed &
unprotected.
“FORE,”
they cry.
Heads Up!
And I feel better about
my foolish heart & low
over head resolve to
keep keeping-on
putting-out: IT
in play.
Damaged & Damaging
of course, damnit:
Sustaining The
Vulnerability.
Compose &
Be Composed
I always say.
xxxooo, Presbyter
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