my head was bare

my mind was not blank

my scalp was bald


so no weight to add

to the endless pressure

of self


a pressure that couldn’t escape

no hat could smother it

sunburn was a distraction

concussion brought new pressure

not relief 


eyes closed

eyes opened

didn’t make a difference


released nothing 

its capacity was endless

each image added to the pressure


there was no relief

self was trapped in bone

removing the skin

the contents

only removed identity

even the hollow skull grins



no one knew me well

There is an odd relationship between hats & respect – no hats in some churches, in some the head must be covers, in some women have to be totally hidden – all at the dictates of spiritual respect. Then there is ‘the higher the hair the closer to heaven’ philosophy from the bouffant days. 

In some faiths the removal of hair is a sign of leaving a former life behind – monks, nuns, Buddhist acolytes are shaved bald, cutting off a Chinaman’s queue is an act of humiliation, native Americans scalping those they best in battle. 

Yes, hair is more than something to wash a man out of. In high-school told by a Phys-Ed to get my hair cut – it was creeping around my ears – like a man. So hair also defines gender, even politics – Afros were seen as radical signifiers, long-hair hippy, sexy shag-ster, greaser mullet.

Maybe hair is the door to the soul & not the eyes 🙂 Invariably it becomes an extension of the ego. Even not having it – when I started shaving my head decades ago, people’s reactions to be changed. I became physically more intimidating! Whatever. 

Ultimately this piece is about the impossibility of transcending the self because no matter what one does internally the external will never let the self free as long as people judge books by their cover or lack of a cover.

I love this glitter skull – defray blog costs 

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