I wandered through poetry thought I knew this place well
looking for wisdom looking for humanity
my outlook by no means negative though by no means expecting wonders miracles, transformation, soul-shaping life- defining metaphors and sadly I must add conceding no possible hope for love
which is exactly where I found you chatting to my Muse (why is Muse never lover?)
man most well-measured not a syllable out if place but your voice your voice
I do not hear perhaps it is just too comfort-zone, risk averse
agrophobic when it comes to
to the beyond, the boundless, our freedom in a nutshell
shattering it to smithereens with the force of poetic pressure
and perhaps the poet too
perhaps we should stay contained work like jewellers do in miniature
for this is a dangerous age bad time for words
and I, for my sins and pretensions of truly sinning
have wandered so far of course, too far away thus with grace