Notes About The Poem

highwire

If I crash-out of this med-school thing, I hope it’s a gentle spiral.

Upon a trembling wire I make my stand,
a Flying Wallenda, knowing no other life.

A deep and quiet moonlight, well flatters the mind's labour. 
So scholars' efforts are commonly crowned in sleepless industry.

Coincidentally, those same treacherous moonbeams
dubble-dip as lover's ambiance.

Those that study flesh, may find their own poorly mastered,
as it conspires - in want - and distracts with fancies ill-timed 
- as if desires were somehow exam-unaware.

Ambition ties me, with strings, to ever-urgent examinations,
while desire, that merry thief, giddily unlaces me.

Between love and ambition, I dance a careful step, 
half-architect and half-willing fool.

Should I fall - as other highwire walkers have,
let it be said that I fell with blushing grace
- not by neglect, or overzealous reach, 
but by the tragedy of earnest and impatient love.

Exams start in 2 hours. It’s hell week. Wish me luck!
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A song for this:
Tiger, my friend by psapp
Copyright © | Year Posted 2026

Poem

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Fallica Avatar
May 6, 2026 at 7:58 AM
I’m of two minds. One says, ‘Why are you screwing around with this medical stuff when you’re such a talented wordsmith!’ and the other thinks, ‘You’re going to be one hell of a doctor as you apply prodigious abilities to medicine!’ / How’s your Chopin? Debussy? Play something for me. / Next stop, Hearst Castle. / <3
Vionet Avatar
May 10, 2026 at 6:48 AM
wordsmiths and doctors are being replaced by AI. I'm thinking that I need to learn how to be an AI. Sometimes when listening to a song I'll find myself picturing the finger placements for a particularly interesting chord transition but I haven't touched a piano seriously in years - I will plunk around a bit sometimes - it's not something you forget. I've got one more week of tests. Where are you these days?
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