the higher standard
~
the excuse jar emptied,
plenty of time,
still flush with inside insights
but end all, stillborn, flushed

poems entitled,
but not embodied,
the cards dealt,
but each hand folded,
the stack of chips
slowly diminished,
many small ventures
for no gain

a verse, a stanza
but no bonanza,
the mirror of mine own
editorial critical gaze enhanced,
judges the work unpurposed,
nothing passes muster
not a one invited to the
high school last dance

even this lamentation
by way of explanation,
itself defective,
but yet slogging on,
progresses - perhaps

paper and pen
long since discarded,
yet mental imagery of myself,
surrounded by mountains
of crumpled drafts
rising up to fill the  
surrounding empty floor spaces,
feels so real, I am, ha ha,
floored and flummoxed

somewhere  unbeknownst how,
received a crucifixion transfusion,
the mind's blood now tainted
by this holier barrier,
subsequently diagnosed as
an official human ailment -
the higher standard

the faucet of words
fills the sink,
disordered, spouted molecules,
despite the clarity of water,
reformation needy for a reformatting

nothing suffices,
the quench unmet,
this purifying filter imposition -
the higher standard
reduces my scribbling scriptures,
to ashen dust, scattered
among the gigabytes
in a rented cloud

supposedly available for resurrection,
when the Messiah of Satisfactory
arises from the place,
where all messiahs await,
for further testing,
all caught, but none released

even this mea culpa to myself,
unsatisfactory, barely avoiding,
the usual suspects of inadequacy
and almost discarded,
nearly failing the language barrier,
the last test,
is it worthy of disseminating?