Unfinished Poet

The unfinished poet never learned to cross his tees.

One never knew if they were ells or was it meant to tease.
Sometimes subbed stars for vowels or used periods as names.
His sentences only made sense if registered as games.
He’d run awhile with sections vastly overrun with rhyme,
then switch to haiku or blank verse without regard for time.
He’ll quote from Poe or Doctor No without a sense of guilt.
His poems are the oddest structures writers ever built.
A leading critic once said were they gathered in a book,
they could become a danger that was hard to overlook.
A poet has an urge for words when stepped up to the bar,
but this unfinished poet’s simply taken things too far.

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I'm a writer living in Massachusetts.