I know very well how I thunder through
all of the magical mirrors and the frighteningly fragile
sheets of glass. With my full-on hammer head
I am bulky and sulky; my mouth is the oracle of doom
the receptacle of your loathing. And you, I know
like it that way. I am the blunderer
ham fisted and club footed, with your target bright
and bold upon my back. The steam coming out of my ears
helps you to find me
again and again. If I wasn’t there for you, who would
you assign the blame to and paint the horns upon?
I am the cyclopes who flattens your beautiful garden, vines dangle
from my ears and branches trail at my heels. You think
my knuckles drag upon the ground while you gaze
down from your lofty perch. No. My head is adorned with clouds
and my teeth they shine like obelisks
in the light of a very blue moon. And when the dawning star
throws shafts of light into the pupils of my eyes
I gladly throw them back at you.
© Tina Zabielski 2011-2019
theminstrelscitadel 
Beautiful, I found it relatable and the ending is enchanting. It reminds me of one of my poems.
Relatable, it seems, is extremely hard to get to, and comes as a great relief. Thanks. 🙂
Dear Minstrelscitadel.
I admire your word songs: the imagery and descriptive language are illuminating in the way that your words convey emotions, intuition and an imaginary mythical place.
“Hammer Head” is a wonderful poem. The character is both a hero and a villain. “Hammer Head” is a hero to the “flatteners of beautiful gardens” and a villain to the gardeners who try to tame the wild things of the wild jungle. The character reminds me of the barnyard cow or wild deer that eats the neighborhood flowers and plants. It reminds me of the odd ball and fool that everyone makes fun of or avoids, It reminds me of the raccoon that knocks over your garbage can and gets it head caught in a the jam jar. It reminds me of Bacchus and his followers on a bender. It reminds me of neurotic homeowners who move to the farm country and then pass laws against roosters crowing and farm animals. It reminds me of Canadian geese on a golf course. “Hammer head” is the sound of a cricket in your tent and a stone in your shoe.
Those people looking down their noses and painting bulls eyes on the “Hammer Head’s” back, I know them too. They’re the “parsimonious pipsqueaks” that would “deny you the steam off their piss” as some old time irish used to say. Their blood boils in rage against the wild things. Hatred is a sizzling corrosive element that mostly destroys the hater more than the hated, but the hater never sees it that way. The haters speak a language that sounds like the hissings of a two legged rattle snake. But the wild thing does not care, its unconscious and casual; it was born the way it is. Wild thing barely acknowledges the domesticated damsels and neutered ninnies or the kneelers, ring kissers and game players. Wild things can’t be house broken because they are born wild. “Hammer head” is the wandering mouse or bee in a roomful of people. The people over react and the animal gets frightened. After a while “Hammer Head” begins to realize that just by being itself it causes tension in the “beautiful garden” people. They wish the “Hammer Head” acted more like them. Mostly they wish “Hammer Head” would just go away and leave their beautiful garden alone. But “Hammer Head” refuses to live or leave quietly. “Hammer Head” is not a little mouse that scurries for cover but a elemental force to be reckoned with.
I really like your blog. I enjoy reading your work and hearing your voice – it’s a voice worth listening to.
Thanks, Marlow. Me thinks you need to post a thing or two yourself… 🙂