not a poem

The Fabled Sage (micro-fiction)

sagacious was he
held in esteem by men
yet nuisance to the gods,
for whom his wisdom
had little time,
thus from the heavens
his infidelity was rewarded
with temptation,
an angel to distract his works
thus his pen was silenced by his heart.

but only for moments
the briefest time
as the angel sent
to be his mistress
fell to her knees before him
enchanted by his songs
of rebellion and love
known not in celestial skies
and thus the nymph herself
became disciple
and the gods on high were lost.

for god’s on high, know not the heart.

Naming Monkeys

I spend my time most wisely
naming the various monkeys
my fantasies gestate
all dependent of course
on what they bring
to the table, or my back
and that which they take away.
Eduardo brought a waistcoat
and left with ankle bells
basically he named himself,
but Crystal, on the other hand,
needed more convincing,
even though she danced a go-go,
after leaving me a faded
sepia tinged photograph
of a once grand
ostentatiously appointed
white plantation house
in Kentucky, I assumed,
where she once picked up a pair
of silver thigh high boots.
But Dan, oh Dan
a most suitably appointed handle
would never, ever
come a running, or a hanging
no matter how long I called.