I cannot stand here as I am.
smoking. drinking
pulling myself along on
light svelte strings.

people will see
find out.

:
surely it is the poets
that are constantly
at a loss of words.

if anyone cannot find
the words to a
particular sunset or
treetop,
it is us.

because all our time
is spent with words.
we light them
when we are alone.

but, our fire is fragile
it runs amuck.

if a poet does
see a sunrise, and-

if all he can do is
point like mad at the sky
and stomp his legs
like he has never
been loved before.

it is a poet that will do so.