If I had any courage, I'd read the masters
The translations of the masters by the foregone masters' handlers
Or so I thought
My dyslexic mind
Scavenges for words recorded
For me to hear
Free form poetry is sad, but allows a sense of wonder, or,
jealous appreciation of great accomplishment

I doubt my skill
And wish I knew Rumi's Persian style
So that I could read in silence
Without grasping for some faulty foothold in my own
And falling
Asleep, with his unread anthology on my chest