Archive
05/25/10
One "And" or "The"
This breezy evening, Inspiration's instincts tell my bloodstream, with primal vibrations, What even creative intuition can't begin to imagine:
I'm just the tiniest piece of tonight's universe, So miniscule as to be infinitely less than a leaf in Muir Woods, A single whelk in a sea of a billion billion shells,
A barely lambent star-candle, in the galaxy farthest from Mars, A dab from Michelangelo's palette, on the Sistine Chapel's ceiling, One "and" or "the" springing from the Avon Bard's quill pen.
And in truth, I can't possibly pretend to be otherwise, I, a gentle, innocent, itinerant soul with a poetic bent, Wending my marginal, unappreciated way through existence,
Desperately trying to capture life's rapidly passing rapture, By scribbling discreet as well as vulgar thoughts, lyrics, Sometimes on scraps the wind lets settle at my feet, on my lap,
Sometimes on the too-few lines of my blue-ruled notebook, Sometimes in the brief interlude between a loon's tremolo and yodel, Sometimes on the wings of dragonflies and hummingbirds,
Sometimes in the silence that fills my mind's lacunae, Sometimes not at all, When sleep's dreams threaten to inflate my ego, to regal dimensions,
Render me plenipotentiary King Arthur, with my trusty Excalibur, Drawing my lines in mortality's sands of timelessness, Trying, with all my feeble might and main, To write myself out of a plastic Hefty or brown-paper bag, Save the entire plague-fated world's sacred domain, Bring peace to the universe, by means of my meager free verse.
05/25/10
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