By Moristotle
Eyeing the two books’ mosaic of covers, Goines
pined to read in print his creator’s vignettes
about himself and learn of the man’s musings,
reveries, fantasies, dreams, and perusings,
whose volume was twice as long of writings,
its cover even showing a face to readers.
He wanted to show his own face to readers
and see theirs as well and learn of their goings-
on and where to look to find their writings.
Had any of them written anything—vignettes,
essays, reviews, reports of their perusings,
interviews, poems, stories, random musings?
He did not and never would know their musings,
but his creator’s were there for any reader
who added the second book to their perusings,
and in the first they’d see in fiction Goines’
creator from the outside, a man in vignette
seen by a man outside himself through writing.
His creator knew from his many forays in writing
that working with words facilitated musing.
Arranging words was like painting a vignette,
producing pictures in words, portraits for readers,
moving pictures of comings and goings,
transforming into movie-goers their perusers.
He wondered now, having begun his perusings
of that other volume of his creator’s writings,
whether his creator would also be going
through its pages, to revisit his many musings—
all writers need to become their own readers,
to see themselves, as though in vignette.
Not all his creator’s writings were vignettes:
philosophical essays called on perusers
to become Socratically probing readers;
light verse and wordplay accompanied his writings;
self-reflections brought readers to introspective musing
along paths they had not planned to be going.
He favored the vignettes of all the writings:
they showed him also perusing and musing;
their readers would see that Goines was going on.
| Copyright © 2026 by Moristotle |
