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| Hereby Declared Not To Be Untoward: Poof. |
Prelude To That In Which I Will Have Been Most Confident
Or, A Perhaps Passable Sonnet Marking My Intent To Get Right On This
(Being An End-Zone Spike Of The Football Metaphor Most Certainly Not Dedicated To Celebrity Death Match's Characterization Of Rob Zombie)
Like a gifted child, last day of school, hearing the alarm,
at first may breathlessly rush homeward report card trophy firm in hand,
may be stoppéd short with sudden wondering if rushing does more harm —
Through enthusiasm losing what could have been better managed, planned.
So it was with me (I will for now forget it best I not explain)
so I first did startle those around me with my shrieking loud delight;
— & then as quick remembering I ought instead — if, not disdain —
Surely an ease, familiarity, would cast more favorable light...
Or not so surely, since: such thoughts as make one wish to — seem —
must transform, must wither, must corrupt, that — unalienated
Spirit caught between what — soon — may have been found but — empty dream —
& the Future Perfect be-ing by which my wish is fascinated
With these verses unreviséd, sometime graceful, not inept, all —
This soon happily revising author mark — (woo hoo!) — this fine proposal
Thank you John Perry Barlow for believing in me
(& if you exist still, I wish you all happiness, I miss you);
Thank you to Corporanon, of course;
Thank you Activist Post circa July 2011;
& more recently, thank you to @ThePoet17400199 for being so effin real;
& thank you to @MicheleHaliwel for paying attention.
