Two Poets
There were two poets I use to know
One upon words would blow
Like an abeng, and tell of battles
In the heart, where history rattles
Us still, driving destiny like a cart
From the speech's freedom in the art.
This man, this Christopher Higgins
Does come again in the polar winds?
The other's words were long telescopes
Dissecting the distant galaxies of desire
A man whose life formed the tropes
For existential certitude in ancient fire
This man made me walk strange cities
In smoky bars, at the shadowy edge of men
This Williams, Colin Mitchel that defies
The paradigm of same, will he come again?
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