Another Night

[saw]

it was one of those nights
when the wolves surround you
they howl like the hearts
of mothers for lost lambs

a night when a fearless poet
inserts confident brushstrokes
a comma here, a period there
with a bullwhip in his mind

a night when his confident
surgeon hand paints
a bold self portrait, when his
avantgarde is left totally unguarded

one of those nights
when a writer holds his critic's face
in his hands, eyeball to eyeball
whispers, what do you know of me ?