Villanelle

I dreamed I was reading a villanelle

in front of a crowd. Next to me on the floor

was a large bag of garbage I'd mistakenly

brought with me onto the stage. My own garbage.

And the crowd did not care about the villanelle.

Its intricacies or its subject, which was ornate

and thorny and probably none of my business.

I was a snob in the midst of a throng of people

hungry only for the truth. I have never played

the role of a snob or read a bad poem

intro a microphone next to a sack of my own

garbage, in life or dream. What do you think

it means? Are the gods mocking me for acting

in-the-know? This would happen back home a lot. 

Anybody who tooted their own horn

or dared to sound as if they were an expert

on any subject were mocked and driven

into the next county. Never hold yourself above.

There is no expertise. There is only good sense,

earned hard and held close to the vest.

It is not to be displayed but hoarded,

like canned goods in a storm cellar.

Go back for the garbage and deal with it.

In so doing, if you rouse a swarm of flies,

they're yours to tolerate or swat. Choose

your poison, but don't poison the well.

Your dreams are just dreams,

and all dreams go up in smoke.