poems, monologues and serious stuff

Once there were two fables. The older of the fables was continually pointing out the shortcomings of everyone around him, which, as you might imagine, did not make him very popular.
The younger fable only said what people wanted to hear. Soon everyone was saying how wonderful he was.
“This is our favorite fable,” everyone agreed, “He never tells us how stupid, greedy, vain, or arrogant we are. He never preaches or moralizes. This is how fables should behave.”
The young fable got so full of himself that he began to say, ” I am the epitome of what new fables should be. Without a doubt, I am the perfect fable, much better than that old foolish fable.  He makes such a big deal out of everything. No one wants to hear him anymore.”
Less than a week later, the young fable was fired.  After an exhausting job hunt, he landed  a job as a short story in a little read magazine. But even there everyone could see he was only fluff, with little or no meaning. When he lost that job he tried to survive as a descriptive paragraph. When even that didn’t work, he fell totally apart into a lot of unconnected sentences and phrases that no one ever bothered to read. The older fable just shook his head. “There is a moral here” he said, “A fable is like a knife: without a sharp point, it is utterly useless.”

This journey from fret to fret and string to string-
a series of quick stops,
soliciting and inciting the empty air
to fill itself with colors –
a familiar route,
almost a circuit
that offers nuance in place of surprise.
Listen, my fingers are singing.

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