Good grief.
The muses, all nine,
are getting fussy,
issuing refusal after refusal,
and where does that leave us?
I bought pants for the occasion,
didn’t think twice,
pressed on before
popping the capsule
of quiet quickly offered.
Off-putting is to say it meekly.
So I sank weakly
into the half-assed lyric,
closed my eyes for the season,
and kept my passions
within reason…
-r. miller
*Insert Propaganda Here* 