~~~

"all poetry is confessional, whether written in the first person or not. If nothing else, it is a homing device to our souls, telling any who read where we stand, what we see from our perspective and our poet's eye. When enough of us speak of what we perceive,
perhaps someday we'll understand that the tree, the snake, and the rope are indeed an elephant."

Joel Frye



perhaps
the essential modifier of our lives,
or as one of the greatest philosopher reprised,
Professor Alfred E. Doolittle,


"Oh, you can walk the straight and narrow;
But with a little bit of luck,
(perhaps)
you'll run amuck!"^

this thence,
one more mine true
confession,
so many discoursed, cursed

have seen the
roped wrapped tree
firmly snaking around its cored trunk,
issuing forced strangling sounds,
the musical product of its own
umbilical chord

still and yet,
the jungled elephants,
from my visionary,
remain ghostly hidden,
stolid solid doesn't not comport with the
hallucinogenic jive of running
amuck!

limitations shun my expectations,
abilities misrule hide my
hoped-for-destination of hopes,
my elephants,
still and yet,
elude the grasp of exhausted roving eyes

undeterred and reaffirmed,
until and then,
when the elephants come to me
on bended knee,
can understanding be
perhaps
pronounced,
as being blessed with best satisfaction,
with the finest of
illuminating,
most-happy-fella,
well known,
elephantine-humantine-pink
combine
phrases

A Happy Ending
After All


















^My Fair Lady - With A Little Bit O' Luck Lyrics