Most read ▸
Dave Bonta
I am old hat
the lines meet
in my quaint nest
look at me go to sandwich
this ear with that
hope is a little doll
trimmed with ribbon
a pretty slave
buy a rabbit but like
the head of a king
never find him in a hat
give me a hat
like an ambassador to the air
warm and light
and I go fresh to my thin ice
a hat I had for every matter
a hat for show
a hat for wind
a hat for peace
a hat for war
a hat for doing hurt
and a hat for this rain
keeping me company till night
I am a stranger to the committee
against anything distasteful
an old hat left to lie
at the end of town
I believe in doubt
and seek to be content
A simple church:
men in hats blessing
without waking.
I bury my pen
and pray to Bed.
At the office, having drunk
a great deal of wine,
I see my hat before me
like money in the street.
A bed in
my mind,
a hat on the house:
I fear a good sleep.
It goes to take
possession and
to sup.
My fat hat is an angry hat,
a troublesome hat, a weary hat,
a staid hat, a yesterday hat,
a war hat, a Big Brother hat.
At war with my kind
in the office—
he who is a hat,
who is a tooth.
A black hat
and some shoes
could not get up
a ladder, and fell
to dancing—
the first dance,
the first great kill.
I put a hat on
for the flock.
They go so high
that others fall,
so high that they
deceive, and I am
so low that I am not
able to escape,
my troubled hopes
made even with
my money.