reworked

some photo of Lincoln i took when my sister came to visit.  completely irrelevant to this post.

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the following snippet is part of a poetic prose piece i began at an optometrists some five or six years ago.  despite trying to rewrite and rework this particular bit since, oh, the afternoon after i wrote it, i have never come up with an alternative presentation that suited my intents.  lo and behold, i spent an afternoon at the dentist getting fillings (six at a time--not advisable) and suddenly the words came to me.  so, without further ado...

Poetry, as she lay dying,
whispered within, "I always was
a ruse for fools." but we both saw
that brave-worn mask for what it was
askew upon her golden fear.
"where will she go?" i asked the crowd--
but they, blind mob, mute-shuffled past;
at length i found my self and thoughts
alone beside her final home.

btw: this form isn't final.  but it's finally given me a structure to work in--not to mention the rhythms, people, the rhythms!--8 to a line, two 4-beat sets, nine times in a row!  i do love a sweet off-beat, but love the precise cut quite more.