The Myth Of Fame

Fighting Tuesday’s boredom,

he decided to play a game

 

And because he’d never done it,

he decided to test his fame

 

He mouthed the most nonsensical words,

with imagery askant

 

Then wrote them down from right to left,

a backward forward rant

 

To see if then his audience,

could make sense of this ruse

 

He published in the New York Times,

for readers there to muse

 

To his surprise they cheered and raved,

and called his name out loud

 

And said that T.S. Eliot,

from his gravesite would be proud

 

They found deep meaning in every word,

each rooted as a farce

 

And saw an abstract Moby Dick,

within his dark discourse

 

With pen in hand he pushed away,

and leaned back in his chair

 

And scratched his head in wonderment

—at the myth his fame could bear

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2017)

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