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 their 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.
© Job√© 2020