mmmccxcviii

Straight from the Gift-Horse’s Mouth

Not being a
meanie, me,
I don’t (at
least not
presently)
mean to
deceive,
repeat,
do not
intend
to offer
up to you
or anyone else
a thing but for
myself. This would
be true (and is) re-
garding pretty much all
you’ve ever gotten at least del-
iberately from me. At least to me,
it generally seems best, as much fun
as a meaty role might be, to present
as who I am not what I want to be
or whomever I might think you’d
want to see. But what to do, as
often is the case, when try as
I might, I am just not gotten?

Perhaps in cases such as
these, it might be best,
even as my every attempt
is to present myself as
who I am (or who I
think I am), to art-
iculate or in some
way enunciate, or
what I think I mean
to say here is to,
with my very presence
and my actions articulate,
enunciate, elucidate the person
that is none other but me, and
once I’m done with that
performance, like any
artist who has just
completed a work,
a piece, I should 

and happily let it go, 

to say, in essence, this
has been a presentation
of me, then turn away and

simply leave, for once
the piece is done,

or stronger still,
what offering, be it

art or be it deed, so long

as it was purposeful, it makes

no difference how much effort it

might have taken just to get a

thing, whatever it might be,

to arrive as thing, a 

sculpture, painting,

poem, song a

novel or a 

dance, no

matter what a

person or some 

persons put into it, 

can this creation by any

means at all even so much 

as exist until it is no more the

giver’s, or the artist’s, this thing,

whatever it might become, just isn’t.

That is until the gift belongs no more 

to him or her or, in this specific case, 

at least, to me, because, as gift

now given (with the flourish 

of a final word or two) 

it now belongs (like 

it, I dare say, or 

not) to you.

(What then

becomes

of me?
you might
or might not
wonder.  This act
has most certainly, 

and in no small measure, 

frighteningly, upped the ante. 

Why, yes, it is for certain that 

each time that I go through with

such an act as this, upon reflection, 

I must admit, it starts very often with 

a healthy, ascertainable case of stage 

fright for, believe you me, the last 

thing I would want to do is leave 

you with a gift that’s rotten.  So,

with most sincere apologies 

if you’ll kindly allow me to 

duck out quickly and 

embarrassed with 

a promise that

tomorrow I 

will at the 

very least 

attempt 

with all 

my best 

to do it 

better.)