Savant and scribe know where all glory goes. 
If we’re lucky, principles of mediocrity rule our larger commitments.  
Then both can devise a poem for a period of guesswork.  
 

Finish a stretch and my theory gets confused. Confused the way   
 
A rusted barge dries off in sun orange. Or   
 

Danzig is the Wallace Stevens of evil urban clusters..   
 
Ok, this is not Danzig. Clinically proven.  
But theory is something else.