" EMBRYO "

Do I ever, a new thought or thing create
Am I but a fake impresario
Draining the luster, that innate purity
Of those who've gone before me
Molding riddles and rhymes
Into synthetic alibi's
Straining thickened blood
Through Emerson and Tchaikovsky
On keyboards of antiquity
So that I might feel
What once
Was felt,
Or am I
Embryo....

Tony Taylor.   (Chicago)