Handcuffed politely to the bedpost of his inspiration,
he is optimistic that this time the limits
of self-imposed constraint will be breached, if not brutalised entirely.
~
‘Don Quixote’ - a whimper of metaphor;
‘DoN QuiXoTE’ - a rush of chiming vowels;
’DON QUIXOTE’ - a panic of ecstatic prosody.
~
Ignoring his aching wrists
and with imagination unfettered,
he reaches for paper and pen, and begins.
‘Somewhere in La Mancha, in a place whose name I do not care to remember, a gentleman lived not long ago, one of those who has a lance and ancient shield on a shelf and keeps a skinny nag and a greyhound for racing.’
- Miguel de Cervantes, Don Quixote
