These accursed poets

These accursed poets

These accursed poets
These accursed poets (end
every so often to be-damned poets)
wasted life hereafter with the words
chasing rhythms and dissonances distill
metaphors grind oxymorons live
plans of interfering and not give to see
fill the house of paper (slowly
restrict the living spaces
family members) laid bare the soul
modulated with ease.
Talkative as fellow tavern
taciturn as king in exile
in all latitudes are uncomfortable
and fit anyway.
Not even they know that fish are.
Jugglers, trapeze artists of the word
the logos read - through
their own - in the hearts of men
explore space and time capture
essences weave with invisible needles
tapestries secrets that reveal the world
and as above it. Damn cornering
philosophers who - bent by the weight
their tomes - harness the universe
in conceptual schemes. are
like hedgehogs in the chest of the powerful
even when they do not have intention.
Not worth the torment or blandirli
(for their pervasive reverse motion)
these accursed poets better to let
brown at their own fire.