April 2005  National Poetry Month   Third Set Burn I’m not your Johnny Wad  looking for a mike and a light. I can share the reason I was born  no matter where you stick me. But, you’re not listening.  You can’t even make up what I might say. So, tell me again, what I’m here for. I’m ready for my third set burn, now. Just give me a good mike and a spotlight. I’m here because of what I wear on the inside. So, where are the excellent party adventurers? Is this where large numbers gather  expecting unplanned events  supported by no-income-art-people musicians viz, garage bands,  and the over-fifty alcoholics who escaped disease and death by traffic? Pay no attention to the ten-ton fish on ice. Just give me a crackly mike  and a bad-ass floodlight. I know what it's like to walk around  high as a kite on moonlit nights but when I get up in the morning there’s always  a four stroke hello and a seven fold amen. I’ve taken all I can stand but I’m still here. I’m waiting for my third set burn.   A poet needs a smoke screen  to hide his clueless ambition, his adventure in crowd participation,  one more journey thru cold-shoulder-land,  a brief spot on the radio hour  for those of you who missed church. I’m taking it to the limit one more time. Get set, turn it all on, bad mike in a lovely light,  use it all up on a third set burn, a risky venture,  where it’s ok to turn up your midnight fuel, let some of your shine rub off, bead up, drip  from the love making you love to make. It’s NOT about getting paid, getting laid, it’s why you get up in the morning,  save up all day  for a third set burn.