I dreamed a dream of fantasy
In which a muse appeared to me,
Inquired of me, What would I be
If anything at all I could be?
A poem, I said, I would like to be.
"Then, you a poem you’ll surely be
No longer a separate entity,
But a living poem sentiently."
Beginning the metamorphosis . . .
From a human I will transform
And soon, I’ll be a total poem.
As you know, this weekend, something new is coming.
This is a poetic event unlike any that has come
before. A poet is being transformed.
In a matter of hours, the poet
will cease to exist and
become his own
final creation,
a poem.
Citizen Poet 