Let us cut the poets loose
For the earth is trenched with their wanderings
For they trample the blood-waged borders
For their steps bisect old steps
Let them find their way
For they wage tense inner century wars
For they need permission
For they could scribe heartlines
Let them do what they will
For they remember to remember
For they share the common air
For their peopled hearts waltz
Le them praise the little lamb
For the wolf has already been sung
For God said I Am That I Am
For we have nearing the year two grand
Let them dream of a song to leave
For they brood about the blank beside their birth years in books
For the trees don't last forever
For the oysters refuse to sing.
---o0o---
1982-2013
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