another variant of a prose poem

and yet, another - from 1978-1981 era, unpublished, unsolicited. yada-yada-yada .... a prose poem - sort of .... well, a variant of the form. hope to get another update tomorrow, then it's going to be rather ify for a bit - as i have a ton of overtime on the horizon ... they just love us at the paper mill ... can't stand not to be with us i guess. still no contract, no word on the pending sale (though the rumors are starting to crawl from the floorboards) and well, ya know it's a dog eat dog world out there where ya gotta watch your own back most of the time .... so much for the great society i heard about when i was so much younger than today (to quote Bobby D. hisself!).


EPILOG

In the event you have wandered this far (or is it waddled? No matter.) there are still some surprises along the way.
In the event you are bored with all this required reading, there's a skin flick on the tube and the next few poems read quickly and easily.
Besides, the test is a breeze.

Erato, i am older than my dreams allow.
There are marvelous temples along the way, all dedicated to false worship.
But mostly, i am lonely with the harsh and broken songs.
O, delicate Muse, the gods have been cruel to my ambitions.
Soothe me.
i am willing to accept comfort tonight.
With the cracking of light over solitary peaks of the Sierra Nevadas i may be willing to learn the effect of the smiles you offer.

Falling in love is too easy for old hands of pain as myself.
i understand the broken text of songs no one sings.
The bitterness is invigorating.
Perhaps the thin silence is more holy than the programmed chanting of your temples afar.