Character (a poem)

Tub of guacamole on ceramic coaster.
Perhaps to writerhood I bring myself closer, closer

By donning items made for better men
Like Moleskine notebook, 'spensive pen,

Moody thoughts of times long past,
And photographs of skies gone overcast

Upon my wall.  I sit and drink a cup
Of bitter brew and pounce upon the keyboard quite abrupt

As vision of a character, clear as day,
Alights upon my mind like navy jay.

He stands upon a pointy cliff,
His ebon cloak blows to and fro just like a mist.

He thinks of dirty deeds he must impart
And I cannibalize these thoughts to craft a story arc.

I dip a chip into the greenish goo
And gasp at onion, jalapeno.

I sit and munch on chip and guac
And let my mind live on that mountaintop.

I sit and sip on store-brand java beans,
Enjoying none, as man in cloak turns back into the evergreens.

I am not hear to drink this brew, I cannot be,
I owe a debt of life to he

That walks through pines and oaks, past corpse of bear,
That has a streak of white in raven hair,

That struggles up a slope to reach a road
Where stands a horse so white it seems to glow.

He mounts the beast, and though I'm in
My room, I see the hero's deep chagrin

Etched deep in pits in both his eyes.
He looks at me and calls my fiction lies.

I'm sitting in a chair from Walmart bought,
Consuming ethnic dip and coffee hot,

And suffering am I the judgement of a gent
Whom not a hour past I did invent.

Ode to a Bad Audition

Morality, or Lack Thereof, in “Seinfeld”