He mastered nothing of irony,
Not even words on a page running
Away like careful notes of the pen.
He followed the leaders and readers
Into the library of horrors and marvels,
Where whirring red books lined the icicles,
Deep in their own conversation,
Like cabinet-ministers or prime ministers,
Or even the presidents of delay, accusations.
He must not step on politics,
Friday, September 25, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: knowledge,master