My mind wanders,

My mind wanders,

It is all I can do

To keep it tethered

In the room

I fear its loss

I could be a dada doodle dandy

Pretend to be cool

Perform for myself

Stand on a corner somewhere

A pavement artist

Cutting up an old newspaper

Sticking it back together

In a different

Order

The Lyrics by Paul McCartney

A riveting read

But only half the story.

Bob Dylan is Forever Young

Even though he sits on the shelf

Next to the chessboard

The Queens gambit

Is as old as time

And still people fall for it.

Do you remember

Chess the musical

I never saw it

Did it really exist?

Who would have thought

Murray Head was a real person

As is

Johnathon Franzen

Who has his detractors,

But I like his style.

Shakespeare

The complete works

A man of letters

How many did he send

To Stratford

Leaving Anne to her own devices

And I don’t mean a laptop.

Perhaps she never saw a play

But she did burn

A sonnet or two,

They weren’t meant for her.

The cat sits on the mat

Or it would if I had one,

My black cat is purely ornamental.

Bulgakov was a master

Margarita was a fine woman

So it is said

She must be dead.

The television

Is a monster

A black hole in the corner

Eating up the space.

If I fed it with dark matter

Perhaps it would

Birth a new universe

Better than the last.

Burroughs would find fault

Cut it up again

Bowie would still be an alien

But what a fall.

Nothing about this

Is random

Even when the mind has free rein

It tends toward

The known,

Following the rules

Until it reaches

The end of its rope.