An audition for an about page or a too long sidebar
In a comment, a missive, that I can count on being missed.
It’s not my intend to be impolite, or impolitic, or crude, rude
Just pickin’ up my drink to move to the other end of the Bar.
You be the czar of your site. I’m choosing not to sit a spell, and swell
with all the back patting and collective crowing that crowd sourced comfortability eventually bankrupts…given any reasonable rate of exchange.
See…you see me…speaking about you, when it’s the whole
of the game of bandying…
I’m baying about.
Because I’m a pour mouth poet drunk on Michael Oakeshott’s realization…
You Can’t Practice Poetry.
But hold 1.
A bit more.