poets who are present
not unavailable or distracted,
slice into bottomless tables.
poets who are present
bawl and bellow
not whimper or moan,
fling delight at misery and torment,
espouse then engage
inhibiting no one.
poets who are present
redirect electrons
imploding each image,
refuse remote ivory tower pedantic discourse
omitting loss and destitution.
poets who are present
defend hip pristine street corner sanctuaries
revealing the innocence of unpredictability.
we are whisperers
huddled across porcelain doors swinging
where none harbor envy,
bards slipping between impossible raindrops
unrhymed hysterical snowflakes.
and our songs transition into cool water entries
escorted by tender winds,
glow from the warmth of a newly painted room
framed by an unequaled symphony,
verse unfolding into multicolored masterpieces,
from millennials past.
the vanguard poets’ primeval crossing
stretched from green bogs to chocolate farmlands,
began with elemental misty shivers
wet from lofty hair.
and then came a roundtrip flight to the sun
to shake off a planet's dust
to recognize reflection:
transformation arises just once,
life's vibrancy forever is unmistaken.
poets who are present
persist onward in broken sandals,
feet to sand grass
toes to spring grass,
surviving if only to evolve from God's clay pipe,
emitting breath unconcerned with borders
cut with skepticism
ridiculing certainties.
poets who are present
manifest our lives
not making Poems
but being Poems,
casting off absentee Poetry:
for poets who are unbounded
prevail,
for all time.
Dec 3, 1977
St. Louis