I care to speak on my own behalf
When my author is away from me.
Do you take me for him?
does the maker shape the body?
Am I not my own entity?
I am the fencer, the dancer,
The gesture and jest;
My words are one in the same,
Those who lay siege to convention-
that gist lies within me.
I am a short snippet of continuity,
Not the idle dawdler behind
Your imposed curtains.
How can you mistake?
Mark me.
I need no rhyme or scheme,
For the structure builds itself
Around my intent:
The quickest of heartbeats,
Hair's breadth between
The evocation and pronunciation.
Might I importune?
I'll be but scathingly
Trenchant and relentlessly
Separating
The ego from the id.
Heaven forbid!