They know I hide my howls in cheeky places
Always have
and no valid argument has dared me successfully
to stop
The playing field caters with vastness now
that everyone
simply subscribes to the bare number one
Epitomizing number one
Claiming it as a possession has shriveled to a bore
like roadkill
left by the night for the crematory foibles of the sun
or myself
when from my upstart dementia they proceed
to mine for hints
ascertaining whereabouts of those elusive primal screams
They don’t get it
Or perhaps I have just treasured those periodic
plumes of volume
more than anyone could fathom on their own watch
Maybe
they’ll accuse me of being miserly with my cathartic heirloom
So be it
Those howls were honed for dynastic residencies
not a one-hit wonder
or a one-night stand or a one-trick pony
They epitomize
Those howls of mine illustrate far too easily
for marketplace posterity
They’re my answers out there hiding in the wind
they will have
to catch one regenerating blow at a time
05 12 20
-Steven Fortune
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