RANT AT INTERVIEW

Ron carries in his valise
long notebooks of injustice
on fish hooks of metaphors
over a Vermont library corridor
apparently wishing on his video
to have an alternative literary
vision of a contrary poetry lore
from the hidden mirror
of his own selfish narcissism
in a meticulous print out
constantly spouting
his own morphing dictionary
in a mindful but cautionary tale
of his personal business
without success as a writer
Ron is cursed with a warring
unsigned nursing busy ego
he hinted to me out the door
that he always rants at interviews
from his reconstructed third estate
in which does not want to be ignored
granted Ron thinks he is a stud
and has a fire in his confession
like a revealing Errol Flynn
with a steel sword's impression
as in the movie Captain Blood
with a miraculous effluence
as he wants me to review
the feigned yet secretly inspired
lives of authors
and understand their influence,
to make everything once hidden
to be new for his beneficiaries
no matter the data or distance
of many understated inventions
with him you cannot win
in any arbitrary scattered argument
amid disorderly habits of chance
with freely constructed words
he strictly instructed me in
showing to me the press releases
of own adrenaline concision
as he smiles to stone wall me
down the country road
I adjusted to tell him
my own literary path
from my own load of study
by the wheelhouses of influence
in the wiles of invention
and reasonable obligation
with fairly good impression
of Heaney, Frost, Merton,Plath
who have not been understood,
now we watch a flock of birds
flying by a pigeon on rocks
at the public park's water
near the Green mountain express
in its Bennington slovenly bath
at the park water fountain
by the deer in the woods
as we remain for an hour
at a pavilion French cafe
for croissants and cheese
asking me honorable questions
on various authors behavior
with no fabled consideration
after several available rants
knowing the laughing hysteria
of an interviewer's shout out
is not any poet's savior
in these mercenary discussions
confesses to me by the clock
his own known drugged testimony
as he briefly passes out
upon his dry dead bones
lying on his own read epitaph
of a staff writer's mental block.