Up to a gnu’s ankle bones
swamping through the grasses of the Serengeti
a prospector breeches
hints of night’s voila
How to find the insect of faith
in such a pond of undistilled splatter
How to steer the helm through this Iago
chasm of fatal idolic inner substance
an image, a stage, a muse, sun screen of fame
the obvious school rules from the past brewery
of life’s stuff on a satellite of anxiety
needing a touch-up of oriental sobriety
uncommon ingredients of a writer’s inspiration
along a moat of moon and alarm
no crooner but a roamer amid life’s nemesis
without tonsorial protection of sacred letters
– Ben Gieske, September 9,2008
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