all right

Occasionally adding corroborative details to add verisimilitude to otherwise bald and unconvincing,
but veridicous accounts
with careful attention, indefatigable assiduity, and nice discrimination.

27 August, 2011

Late Night Assonance

A Confession

I had never planned
to be a maker—it came
completely by chance:

an accident of time
and place—; but, I confess, I
respect the romance

of the whole shebang
that, with the cool weft of words,
comes the antic prance

of rich history
and tradition.  It appeals;
and, casting a glance

at posterity,
I detect hazy signs of
brief significance

and assume that the
world as it is never needs
any relevance

in nuance or sense
or in pontification
or continuance

for I never planned
to be a maker or a
publisher of rants.

What does that all mean?
Sometimes, meaning takes a break
to let the words dance.

UPDATE (7 September, 2013):  a critic, on Facebook, wrote that I ought not to “give away the daytime employment.”  I replied:

Give away my job?
You assume I do more than
write this sort of stuff.

Sorry to break it
to you but this is all I
do; and that’s enough.

The same critic then wrote a lengthy paragraph complaining of my “feathered opinion”; I responded:

I don’t know what a
feathered* opinion might be.
I apologise

for wasting your time.
It’s my fault; clearly I’m not
sufficiently wise,

but ephemera
on Facebook ought not to be
for harsh critics’ eyes.

* A peacock’s plumage
may be bright, a raven’s less
colourfully limned;

moreover, “feathered”
might refer to when a ’plane’s
airscrew’s blades are trimmed.

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