'Pro Forma': Channeling Starbuck

             
Not all writers were destined              
to kayak the rapids of poetry              
into extended history. Some              
bought out their own contract              
to inspire those that braved              
the dog-eat-dog's den of              
publication to survive waning              
identity and rebuild atop select              
adjectives; look at Kathryn's gift.            
Or Merwin's fountain of ink.            
Though I lamented, I was          
wasn't really envious.             
             
'Space-saver sonnets' were              
penned to allow the reader              
to breathe that their 'spirit [not]              
deadeneth' before 'Bone['d]              
Thoughts' half-emptied upon              
'White Paper' became a 'burning              
Quaker' speaking twice - twice              
the language in that very act that              
was neither mine nor is yours 'Of Late'.              
             
Though, shamefully, nothing quotable        
survived to immortalize that death,          
twas still so much more than this              
'Visible Ink' tattooed in weekly days              
of protest marches 'On an Urban              
Battlefield' finally vindicated for me,              
even now, by a higher court, you see,              
requiring no spoken oath to loyalty.              
And, yet -              
             
'The Law is              
    possibly the kindest              
          form of death.'              
             
Desperate times call upon              
'Desperate Measures', I say.              
But, you already knew that              
my unwitting star protege.              
~