Is the Author the Poet?

Epiphanies and inspirations swirling formless in the mind

Too small for a novel, too impatient for a plot

They nonetheless demand recognition from the author’s hand.

Sporadic confusion scatters from a pen

And clings to paper for in this medium ideas are heard.

This is the evidence of a tormented soul addressing the world.

Over time, with many a trial, structure sets in

Some conceptions form in rhyme

Others remain unbounded by any and all limitations.

Not story, not simply thought, but unintentional poetry.

The thought has chosen its form--

Without consent of its author it has emerged.

Neat and proud in ordered lines it stands.

The idea writes the words

But the author is only a witness.