the farcical force of the furze

a long time ago in Sports Illustrated magazine

there was an account of a Scotsman in a kilt

golfing on a course that had thigh-high gorse

as its rough

and the poor Scotsman hit his ball into that rough

and wading through the gorse to get to his ball

his scrotum was lacerated by the spiny gorse

and he exclaimed “OOH!! ME WEE DANGLIES!!”

and that elicited from me a zero-empathy horselaugh

because the scrotal descriptor was unexpected

and zany

.

so here we are years later and i need to write a poem

but i have nothing

my brain is blanksville

except for a title appearing spontaneously,

“the farcical force of the furze”

which as fate would have it matches the meter

of the first line of a Limerick

so that would write itself except i am not exactly sure

what “furze” means

so I look it up and it means “gorse”

and the memory of the Scotsman bubbles up

and i would love to reread the article

so i do a search on “me wee danglies”

.

alas, no article, but curiously

a small hanging light made in czechoslovakia

shaped like a spider with the light its abdomen

is being marketed under the name “wee dangly”

it’s cute

.

the farcical force of the furze

brings a Scotsman to tears and incurs

ignition of memory

rough as boards they call emory

when hazardous flora occurs.

.

such internet search serendipity

bringing up such strange knowledge that’s flipped to me

and that randomness element

huge as an elephant

may well take me from cradle to crypt–we’ll see.