One of my earliest literary heroes,
he was likely just as misunderstood
as Piet, and Rabbit, and Henry,
and the rest of us, life's markers
left holding empty bags full of zeroes;
And if I were half, or even a quarter
as good as he, oh what a fine homage
this little bit would turn out to be:
but, sorry to say, turns out I'm just a fan,
for whom words get in the way;
So I have no choice but to let the man
speak for himself, as I have lost my voice;
but luckily still have His upon my shelf:
and though it might not have been his pick,
these lines embody the master of Eastwick:
"No, not for him the darkly planned
Ambiguities of flesh.
His maker gave him one command:
January 27, 2009.
Copyright © 2009, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.
Cog, from Verse: The Carpentered Hen and other tame creatures and Telephone Poles and other poems (Crest, 1965).