Rolling Through Intersections

The Least Sage Of All

The writers of my kind all convene in another session…

Tonight’s saga-less drama: Wait For It — The Slow Burn Trap

Was the young poet in your counsel, or has he addressed me —
if not all, as I was out with the fair maiden on a pub crawl?
As watchers and muses, we are sage but still learning
even as we advise the mortal ones. But, if eternal
and worthy muses, need it be twenty four on the seven?
Are we not fully formed, but still bear as his witness?
What can a muse do but be stunted by what not witnessed?
If we approach every passion fire of the dreamer,
did we approach Heaven or sent to hell,
because I did not assign any message to his stupidity this night?

So, was it you, Will or perhaps Socrates with a grin? 
I see now his chagrin. So muses can conspire to conceive,
when not our turns with Mary, as a spun mind’s minutiae might
inert collect the sum of infantile ignorance to blather thus,
every idle thought lays at rest in scene on his banal page?

But what now do I witness, as surely he conceives a secret
tempting misdirection. So, the guidance? So, that he might
redirect on his own, even by the sagest-informed failure?
I did not sign up for this. So…’this is’ hell. Oh, well —
better than faith guided by muse mystery, if this be our game.
I confess proudly, I never conceded to any other —
my words my own, no more purchased than any sage could proffer.
If witnessed, don’t take any other’s advice? Be true to who —?

Ah, I see the guise now amid philosopher and wind bags —
an anvil from the sky of conception shall descend.
If this be a muse prize, I cannot help but tempted to linger on
and spy the lad ignorance betrayal unfolding. Oooo, yes!
That will especially hurt in the morning.

6.20.25
When failing, go the extra mile and really risk embarrassment. Mailed in.

I trap readers with my words, should they be compelled…
It’s hot off the press, guys! I can barely touch it. The ink still dries.
If there be deceiving muses, they’d be autocorrect gods.

Oh, there’s run it up the flagpole and see if anybody salutes.
Mine is let’s feed it to the baby and see if it craps its diaper.

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