I’m using my poetic license
in lieu of government ID.
They take it since I cannot lie. Since,
as Abel or as Zebedee,
despite the lateness of the hour,
I speak of only truth to power,
a truth that wouldn’t be denied,
nor could be, even if I tried.
A pseudonym, that great invention
which lets a poet speak his mind
without a fear of being fined
or worser still, an intervention,
thus beating any pair of docs.
Unless you’re doxxed. A paradox.
Author notes: image generated by author prompt to ChatGPT
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