Part hermit, part monk, Mr Honk—
courtesy of Mr Wallace—
wondered at what subordinate clause
his sentence would abruptly end,
even if he was not quite sure
whether he was writing a field report
or an epigraph.
More words to ponder at maciejmodzelewski.com
Even the smallest gap in the curtains
might find its peeping Tom—so there is always hope
for the closet poet—yet finding readers proves no easy feat
for the wordsmith in disguise, who has learnt the difference
between epistemology and epistolography
but has never managed to navigate
the intricacies of the modern sock drawer
(as he sees the algorithm-driven blogosphere realm).
Perhaps a premature demise is the answer,
although it only works when real,
as we know from Ms. Meachen’s story.
Besides, the fame gained in this way
is of no consequence to the person concerned,
regardless of whether there is life after death or not.
After all, there is no fun in bidding against others
when the only currency you have is the obol.
hidden pilcrow 