METAPOETICS II/VI
by Will de Kypia




Ave Atque Vale
The Night I Encountered
The Renegade Muse

My dear Liam Francis Smitherick Lifetime
Gold Tier Fan Club Member #2011:LG47852,
I wish to offer those loyal readers who have
followed my career since its commencement
this unvarnished account of a significant
episode in my literary apprenticeship.

I spotted her on a rainy Friday
night in my regular hangout.

She sat at the bar, nursing a fizzy
drink with a bright red cherry in it and
flaunting her perky pentameters.

I approached her warily with little hope
and much despair. All my many attempts to
write poetry had been abysmal failures.

“I have always wanted—”
I started to say.

“Everyone wants!”
she snarked back.

“But I am unable to—”

“Your want lacks talent.”

“If you will permit me to—”

“In your wet dreams, wannabe.”

“Of course I realize that some modest
honorarium is customarily expected—”

“Dinner and drinks will earn you the right
to unzip my toga and ogle my pentameters.
For lobster and champagne you may fondle.”

“Plus a Polaroid to prove that we actually—”

“OK, you can throw in dessert though the
picture will not be of archival quality.

Chemical changes cause the colors
to shift and fade. The emulsion will
dry out, crack, and then flake off.

Soon nothing will remain of our
encounter except your puerile
and delusional fabrications.”

“I adore heirlooms and
believe that the patina of
age enhances the esthetic—”

“You don't know the difference
between the patina of age
and a bent rusty nail.”

“I know nothing about
nails, bent or not. I intend
to be a poet, not a carpenter.

I'll listen to the stones, listen to
the clouds, listen to my soul,
then write words of fire.”



“You'll never be a real poet, just a
high-class plagiarist who steals lines
and images from genuine artists.”

“You'll never return to Parnassus
after what you did there last time,
you're a lady bound for Hades.”

“I'm getting hungry, let's eat.”

“I'm getting thirsty, let's drink.”

It was a dark and stormy night
when the Muse and I supped together.
We two shared more than a meal.

Our tryst was the event that
put me on the long and winding road
to becoming the man I am now:

An extraordinarily successful poet with
nearly half a million followers on the internet,
several poems he can claim to be his alone, and
sufficient wisdom to know the difference.

So I will forever be grateful to the
Muse for her foresight that night, the
night I resigned myself to my fate.

I'd rather be a whore who lives in the
Hilton than a mute and inglorious Milton.
There is no eternal life, there's only today.

Grab it!

Liam Francis Smitherick-
PS She ate lobster, I nibbled brisket,
and we both drank a lot of champagne.
She also got a taste of crème fraîche.

🦞_..🥂