In Hamlet,
when Laertes said, “Upon my life, Lamound”
I
thought of “Dis de big one, Lamont! Lamont! Lamont! Dis de big one!”
uttered
in despair on TV by Sanford, in Sanford and Son.
It’s
not that I wanted to think Sanford and Son looked back
on Hamlet and
considered the Prince’s problems with his father,
and
that those problems were trickling
down
like a sinister leak of semantics
from
a bothersome furnace appendage.
Simply,
I want to find out Lamound’s identity.
Did
Shakespeare imagine Lamound with
a
big handlebar moustache like the philosopher Nietzsche’s
twirling
paternalistic member, and an overripe heart
ready
to explode all over a son?
Was
it not to make Lamound anxious
with
an influence or a transference?
To
give him his explosive heart, and then die?
the Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan
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