2 | "Abstaining" [vers libre]

What if I went on like this
writing poem after poem?
becoming really oblivious
of responsible existence
if they were written on paper
we could pile them very high

how high?
how high is the moon?
how many stacks?
the question smacks of
hyperbole, the way you've
presumed to pose it

(I notice you're putting just
one comma in each poem

tacking it down with one tack
are you? well whatever)
let's not leave the train
of the first thought -- it's
gone from the station
but we can follow it winding

through the charming hills
by the running rills -- you
were imagining writing a lot
let's say a plethora of poetry
a multitude of pages
but don't you know the sages

the wise ones were silent
and the fools became wise
by abstaining from publishing
it's a secret tradition
you've been very slightly derelict
but so far almost a virgin