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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