Heroes and Villains: Day 23

King Radical

What you call balance
is the collision of two worlds
that had guts enough
to take a stand. Where I

was born there were highs
so radiant nostalgia
dulls them. Trapped in this
Venn diagram, this compromise

of undecided voters, in time
I invented every good thing.
Your grey-primed canvas dragged
it into good enough. What was left

then, but to rule it? To crush
one who would bind magic
with a code, lightning bug
pinning himself to specimen board.

Even the descant world
would be better, its loud
doldrum of mashed turnips,
its bus commutes and very tight

neckties. I will bring you
the translation of the lung-
boulder they call regret.