I watch them perform
their perfect storm of words
heard by the snappiest
of listeners, greeting
this odd cadence with reverence
there is a right way to do this
and in spite of my knowing that
I choose rhyme, sowing my
failure into each line, fine
with the results because
I'm not sure I love
what I'm hearing but
searing in my mind is
not the need for spiting
this form, but a seed of
love for what I'm writing.