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?