Hey, that is some fine writing Rick!
Thanks. Writing is easy, poetry is hard.
Bullshyt
Bullshyt is the gentle art,
By which one does dash and dart --
On all topics far apart,
Without meaning from the heart.
And my favorite:
A Primer
A brisk chill does evoke fanciful games,
Hidden in January’s keen light.
Many nuances often play quietly, rapidly,
Sluiced through undercurrents--veering wistful,
Examining yesterday’s zeal.
And that, my friend, is your alphabet lesson for today.
As for the Bullshyt poem, that was from a small creative writing class in 1979, I think there were like seven students in the class. The teacher, a very minor published poet (she had a book that could have been a vanity publication), read the poem twice, as one should, then she started to comment on it. She said that she would change this or that word and I immediately held up my hands in the football 'timeout' signal, saying, "Whoa, timeout, hold the show." I then asked her what was the rhyme scheme/meter of that poem. She reread the poem and I could see the light beginning to dawn. When she was done the third reading, she said that she wouldn't change a thing. I said, 'That's what I thought, too." That was the first moment I realized I knew more than 'educated' college professors (or TAs or an adjunct lecturer) and that it really was time to pack up when it came to higher ed 'schooling'.