Chartered Bocks

A Diner at Dinner
R.A. Stevesson

He penned a poem without thinking of it so
A beast, unleashed, dividing
Onward it spread like toast
on bread
chars, burns
all coinciding

He sat off-put in his brandnew authored soot
Unpleased, knockkneed, time-biding
When came alas a fresh
backdraft
Ash tost,
and slowly gliding

And by his seat, landing flatly at his feet
Afresh, abreast, deriding
Were thoughts construed, betrayed
renewed
Or lost
in their colliding?