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Page 133

The literary impostures
of the living fade 
not in death but from within.
Writer! Heal thyself.

A chalice
is a curious little volume
of thought -
given the strange
characters of men
hiding on Grub streets
and in garrets.

There are many titles
without books.
So few books without titles.
Never exceed 7 pages.
Perhaps just make it 5.

Life will not quicken 
the quill pen - 
and most memoirs
are great forgeries;
The fictitious travels
of memory
simply find their truths 
already written
on dead sea scrolls
in the ancient temples
and tombs.

Life is just an inscription
much like a footprint
engraved in the ground;
the ground in which you will rot.
So what need have you
of an old brass candlestick?
Except to light a dark repast
of venison and turtle?
© Jobé 2020


Had it not been
for the Inquisition
I too would have written
many splendid passages.

But all my Quixotic words
like those of yore
rode a mule into battle;
Only to be burned
at the Arthurian stake
way before it's romantic time.

This is what happens to
revolutionary knights
and deconstructing line poets
who don't cross
raging rivers or themselves -
But tilt at windmills
so the Mad Errant
can throw his hat at it.

We are one library,
Cervantes whispered
to all the other books.
© Jobé 2020

Death Sentence

Plato the ancient
warns of composing verses
while Socrates contemplates
his own artistic death
for which he has many words.

To hell with art; she has many rules
and too many lovers; 
for a philosopher in protest
of the divine furor she craves.
And also the fuhrer 
to whom she is betrothed
and depraved.

There are many poisons
in Greek medicine,
Opiates more fair than Panaceia
And three hours to die by oath.
© Jobé 2020