Been arranging poetry manuscripts.
Thought I had four to send Ted, my old friend
and publisher. I have seven. See, it’s
the Muse, not me. She’s the angel who sends
inspiration, rhythms, imagery. She’s
the one who turns the grand woman I see
into muse or memory. When she’s pleased
she smiles. Sometimes I see it. Sometimes we
just sit in silence. She lets me decide.
Those are the toughest moments. Yet splendid.
Chet Baker’s singing on Pandora. “I
get along without you very well.” Shit.
We all know that’s a lie. Ah. Here comes the real key:
Tony’s crooning, “They can’t take that away from me.”
Roger Armbrust
May 4, 2021
