MY MUSE

MY MUSE is a hard taskmaster. Last summer, 2025, I just finished two books:

LINES DRAWN AUTHENTIC: A Realized Man

THE FOUR ELEMENTS: Seasons Bleeding into Existence 

     I thought it was time to relax and recuperate. The two books were 7 years in the making. But NO!

     My Muse called me to start a new, original project: a Quest. I have studied much in Quest Literature of Medieval Europe–particularly the various cycles of the Holy Grail Quest. I read several Grail accounts from different authors–each story rather different. The most famous Grail story is in Sir Thomas Malory. Jessie Weston in the Early Modern Period theorized that the Grail Quest happened on the Astral Plane! 

     My Muse called me to write a greater Quest. The Human Quest we all go through: birth through maturity to the next plane of existence. I wanted this work to be truly collaborative–my words and a visual artist. They and I would collaborate on what this Quest looks like in art form. 

     It would be truly original. This was not a book in which my poems were illustrated by their pictures. It was as much a visual artist’s book as it was a writer’s book. 

     I spoke with a small number of visual artists. Some said they’d think about it. Others rejected it outright. 

     I just realized Tuesday night (last night) that I am in the midst of the project, and it’s going to be all me. I have four new poems recently completed. I have a mine of more already written to draw on. Fate is tumbling me into making my own visual Art for the book, also. 

     Last summer, I came up with the title:

“A QUEST THROUGH QUESTIONS OF TIME”

     These missions are Destiny. It’s not like I can slough of not doing this. Circumstances are and I believe that they will make it manifest. 

     Currently, we see this as another picture book. Probably Trade Paperback. That will be 3 recent Art books.

ENIGMATIC DR DAVE ENTERPRISES, PRELUDED

I do music, too.

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A RAKE’S PROGRESS: A COMEDY IN TWO ACTS

Prologue:

When you are the tempest

You don’t notice the gale

Swirling tumult menace

 

In the calming after the threat

You shudder at what could have been

Destruction skirting rash choices, obnoxious, noxious

Act I:

For this life it was long life in schools,

For others it could be other—say, family, workplace, working the land, art

My academic life so much this life, persistent

How I absorbed—no—consumed knowledge

Guided and goaded through many books, no one could count how many books

Reasoning, disputing, inquiring, assimilating, dissipating in pubs after class

Academic identity, subjects discussed, discussing how to discuss

 

Learning to learn to continue to learn

Living to learn at leisure and pleasure

Learning to grow trying on life, lives

Trying a Hemingwayesque character (to become a man), or The Artist as a Young Man,

evolving into self

Yet it wasn’t the schools, the books, for this, my life

Nor would it be family, workplace, working the land, art alone for others

In a critical life worth living, not unexamined—passing time unaware

 

To see in a single vision the course of a life

While karma is lived out of developmental stages

Surrounded, bounded, encased within

The facts, the academic style, the collegial camaraderie

Do not make the personality’s lasting completion

Make person, mark lasting brain synapses firmware

Within the encounter with environment, the contours of self are carved

Not necessarily unchanged but the self, persistent

Act II:

A seed, a stem, a blossom, growth—becoming

The single flower—but is it?

From raging adolescence into combative adulthood

Through economic cooperation vocation teamwork

Emergence: genuine caring, community, the other

The shell that was learning and environment

Husking through what becomes self-development

In fact, new self, though persisting

 

The process of my formal education was

But a shell in which I formed.

The facts, forms of knowing, interlocutor interactions

Outside, the self incubating within the process

How ill-suited I was for a serious academic career

Working through the karma of a developing self,

Headstrong, too sure of a developing self

Indifferent to social norms—“What have I to do with thee?”

The wisdom I acquired was not in the books—the many books, no one could count the books

But in the crucible the walls of which were the process of my education

Epilogue:

In the calming after the threat

You shudder at what could have been

Destruction skirting rash choices, noxious, obnoxious

 

A narrow escape from who I was

 

The wisdom I acquired, and did become and am becoming,

And decorum, more or less, contours of cooperation—no—eco-operation

In sync.  Sympatico become peaceful and am becoming peaceful, become peace

THE CITY IN COVID-19

The city is quiet

There are hardly any sirens

Traffic is lighter

When we go for walks

In the deserted park

Drivers wave as they pass

On the nearby roads

I dodge sparse people

In the grocery store

We decided to order take-out

From our favorite restaurant

At home, I write music, play and learn, record,

Read, and there are other projects, chores

But mostly I watch TV

Where I learn the latest about COVID-19

PARNASSUS

The Other World is too much with me

And not enough getting and spending

I live downtown, not high atop Parnassus

Though I do consort more with the muses

Than I do with the Dow Jones Industrials

I bask in Apollo’s rays

Even in the coldest economic climate

Nectar is the food of the gods

My food is peanut butter and jelly

My books, musical instruments, art

Content me with little cash

I’ve made calculations, estimations, projections

Playing Prometheus with my present, future, future finances

I’m alright, going to be alright