Sleeping Poet

Sleeping poet, reaping soon, will he meet untimely gloom? If I sorrow, will he weep? Will the sleeping poet sleep?

Curb your enthusiasm, genius despite blond critics, catch these wily opinions was his hair

sees right through St. Cecilia, of his way, hears her, his name she calls, "mother, sing me a sad lullaby," the boy says, "You'll be so proud of me, mother. I'm going to be an artist one day"

desperate longing, anyway with a whimper, drunk of a museum, listen in body language, apathetic slumber, projections of the martyr obscure him

aesthetic, but no simple man, maintain composer, musician sleeps pretty chorus, strings passionate opus, mark brilliance, dreamer frightened, fascinated for nightmares, subliminal niceties, polite out loud, honest in the same breath, his aunt, renowned snake, red is his color, claim your performance

"We are the lucky ones," he sighs, bewitched scholar, shiver insecurity, cult figure, beloved irony, take a photograph, careful, terribly shy, terror, even if repose, talk to her, soothing voice, drifting in and out of consciousness, keep you at arms length, drifting between conversations, solitary garden, library, immaculate asylum, charming habit, mock the happy ending he lives, "I'm going to be an artist one day"

borrowed jacket, cute sober, arsenal of snapshots, sketch from it fragment, hearsay will conjecture, riddles is lies, adopted character, speaking he song, sardonic eyebrow, weave tale like fiction, listening to fear, good intentions, "Collect beautiful things," he shows, obsession, Lorne Michaels, under radar, anonymous anomaly, discover not entire accidentally, some devil, some saints fated sinners, meet his gaze, but something else catch his storm cloud blue eyes, bolt of pure panic, dear headlights, mutual instinct flight, mystery caught of guard, clever boy, smashing young man

he knows how handsome he is, sweet evening, so appreciative, beg you if stay, friend matters, never need is saving, so extraordinary, require simplicity, all he wanted, he wanted all, he may fall for the hero, and so may I

because I know, that what I have achieved this day is the awakening of a sleeping poet, and stirring in him a great resolve

"You'll be so proud of me, mother, I'm going to be an artist one day."

No one can whistle a symphony.