What Do Poets Do

What Do Poets Do what do poets do when they rise up in the light of morning from the floor of the sanctuary of illusion and wipe with a coat sleeve an open wound from which the life of history drains and shake the sweat of saturation from behind a brow, a paper wall when they observe a movement in a distance the invected curve of the firmament vaccinated, yet to be unmasked by the touch of a human hand or kiss upon a forehead, a screen of vision a set of clothes that steals the mood and the loathing of a task undone a world once shared and shared again the poet comes to name the beast but first a call for the chalice priest the day is long, and suffering longer a corner to rest, to be alone all we need is the haloed moon as a loving companion when we do those things that poets do