Harbinger

For my Dad on his belated birthday, Sept 20 text:Harbinger

Round 1

Is this life dawning?
Or death in pieces?
In installments as
parody of two events
not connected
at face value
except as harbinger to
life half-empty as
shown by pugilists in
canvas venue
in Chicago,
September 22, 1927
when Challenger
in rematch
seeks to undo time
and resuscitate
moribund glory
which could not abide
as championship was a
fugitive but harbinger-
in parody,
1500 miles away.
Give or take.

Round 2

That very distance away,
two days prior
(give or take)
enters manchild
Contender into
a world expectant
with strife
and panic as
Contender wears belt
of contention
and crown of
disappointment in not
being the great
Portuguese/American hope;
cast aside to hit
proverbial canvas with
a crashing splatt
in Providence, RI-
the conflux of canned
immigrant hoped-for glory,
in defense of a
title which is
rewarded with punches
and championship belt
of hardship and rejection.
in parody as harbinger.

Round 3

Atomic clap of
leather glove/fist pounding
flesh-bearing scar tissue
as Champion continues
tedious dominance of
befuddled challenger;
applying the "sweet science"
on the way to scripted
victory-he starts
the seventh round
outpointing his
ancient foe when the
polarities suddenly
reverse as Challenger's
grasp-at-straws left hook
lands in judgement, dropping
Champion to canvas floor
like origami as Soldier Field
levitates and contorts in
disbelief-Challenger
cannot find neutral corner
so Referee delays count-
the long count as Champion
uses every tick to advantage
in rising at the count of "9"
(Give or take);
no respite for Contender
in parody as harbinger.

Round 4

Contender is knocked down
before first awareness
to punch back as fitted
for goats horns,
donkey's ears and
dunce cap without
latitude to question-
only to accept the "chump's"
belt around the neck
as indentured servant
to preordained prophesy
in predestined strangeness
since Contender cannot
understand the foreign speech
in his birthland-
still the stranger
as the count reaches "9"
(Give or take)-
beating it by a breath
but not before he rises
minus a rib since
there is no neutral corner
as punches still reign
from all directions;
in life, the Opponent
does not stop punching
in bunches and so
he must retreat to
fields of comfort with
buckshot and hound-
this is natural
and fits better
than freshly
ironed gaberdine
in parody as harbinger.

Round 5

Could Champion retain title
if not for "the long count"?
It is moot as prologue since
Champion resumes his attack,
the dust from canvas
still clinging to trunkfibres,
with synchopation as
leather staccatto on
fleshly snare drumskin-
blood as currency
with hemotoma dividends
since prodding Challenger
can't reach ubiquitous
Champion in parody of
real contest as Contender
cannot reach Opponent
who is illusion of all
that he should be but
cannot defend against
combinations and sticking
jabs as Judges total
scorecards in definitive
tabulation of final
punch-count numbers and
power-shots with extrapoint
for knockdown-Challenger
has lost in pugilistic match
but never in soul warfare
in Spartan sacrifice
in parody as harbinger.

Round 6

We move to the
"championship rounds" as
harbinger in contrast sees
Opponent hit below the belt,
punch on the break,
grab and clutch Contender;
inflict a telling head butt,
and bite and rabbit punch
Contender who searches
in vain for Referee who is
one and the same
as Opponent and
so no disqualification
which renders Contender
as wounded bystander
as the machine counts
in dispassionate cadence
since Warrior as pugilist
has come back
for the last time;
The time has snuck up
(as winter's frost) to
"hang em up" in defiance
of warrior vanity and
quest for glory denied
by end of lifecycle;
we now "go to the scorecards
for The Decision",
in final order to DNR
as reality has
at last, met harbinger.


The Decision

Champion and Challenger
bond in solidarity
as two Champions and/or
two Challengers in
brotherly friendship;
Contender had no such
opportunity-leaving
one son who is and
should never have been;
one son who was and is not;
and manchild who is
and almost never was;
This, as testimony/belt
around posterity with
end of family bloodline;
Unanimous on all three
of the judges scorecards,
in final fullfillment
of harbinger.


(Dedicated to my Dad who
was born almost on the eve
of the Tunney-Dempsey
heavyweight championship
rematch, held on Sept. 22, 1927,
the first such event to have
grossed over one million dollars.
This is a parody and contrast
of his life with that now famous event.)

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