I am a Union man, you know,
though what I know will often show
a certain existential flow
that resonates an afterglow
to left and right, above, below,
in front, behind, to friend and foe
as understanding where to go
when one hears the sound, "Go Os!”
O Say! Can you see an average Joe
who looks like me, from "Bal-ti-mo";
who'd write in verse, but isn't Poe,
or any other poet? So ...
Now I say, and may repeat,
this laborious little feat,
considered a consequence
of dropping dimes like 50s, since
that's simply all I can afford,
and like as not will reuse, restored
beyond as they’re presented here
in present form, within this sphere
of ignominious influence
where matters are, presently, dense
as lead. What's said and done
reveals content that is pure fun-
damental form pertaining to
retaining formal function. You
can say it know of little feat,
a noun and an adjective, complete
as they describe one man to all
those whose feats aren't seen as small
by one with whom they are compared.
This little feat that you've just shared
combines, compounds, raises the bet,
between you, dear reader, and a poet.
Exploring who I am, and am not,
reveals the fact that all I've got
is what you see, and may elicit
from me. Labor Omnia Vincit!