Come to think of it—
true genius
can only be rare
as genuine
vacuity. Yes,
of tremendous
ability and expertise,
only a precious
few can speak, but
who among
the rest of us plebes
doesn't sleep—
and while we sleep,
command the supple
and prodigious guile
of the genuine sophist?
Granted, no napper
gets described as
particular—let alone
meticulous, witty,
or discerning—but
none the less,
plainly, all are
quite industrious.
In their dreams, in
other words, everyone's
an artist.
