Poetic Occupation
As a poet I am told
I am a "maker" in Greek
I am a "seer" in Latin
taking words and plucking them
from the primordial void
plucking from the infinite fields
grazing in the tall lush grass
sucking on succulent peaches
in the golden brown sun
I take these words, images from
the Collective Unconscious Soup
and plug, upload them to the
constant I-Pod on playlist repeat
seeing the images which none
but myself can comprehend
I take those images
bringing them down
to the workshop
the smithy
the red-hot volcano
I set about to work
to craft
to make these thoughts and
expressions tangible
understandable to all
set up and ingrained in
the senses of the mind
permeating from above and now
reflected and palatable to everyone
Alone
atop a high tower of gargantuan
rock face terrain, standing alone
working and changing
swaying the elements
Earth under my feet
Wind caressing my hair
Fire in my heart
Water dripping into my soul
Maker, Seer, Artist
the poet takes each breath
and exhales the colossal creation
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