As rare as a pistol in a pear pie
His faith for prose lit his personal fire
Flip flop hate into a lie
In letters and phrases free from ire
A persistent gnat stifled in a field of tar
His fateful ideas sifted like sand into a jar
Possessing talent to err, learning to reign
His hope to separate art from the terrain
Others try to feign his slippery eel insight
As he inspires stars jetting through the night
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