Frayed Essayist

My essay self frames the pure desire to ascend
To the shelf's top, a tome written to dictate
No war, a peace to derive not only 
Not only but a sure thing's sure thing
The to be that won't see a ghost
Even after its dreams and father
Have passed from reality 
To a plot line written by nights
And clouds and stars

It's the definitions:
I want to write,
This is a verb
It is the thing to do
And for that to be
Your guidebook
And the ritual to save the world
From selves and elves and pocket gum

When the dryer makes fires
I am no longer
And no shorter
Than the shirt fraying on my back

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