#highee

i imagine poets like saviors on mt. zion far too often. communicating with the human collective conscious en masse. our trots cocky, hughes' trots poignant and purposeful. only hope left on the cliff we trail to tumble off. they hero heroines de prima, roman godlikes keats, army generals . precise v5 sabers valiantly unsheathed in sunsets gleam. but myriads betray and are pseudo-angels letting more steps go in semantic foxtrot off berm. then we dig our nails into e.e.'s forearms. peddler desperate eyes oceans of innocence. yeats on the crucifix waits for more to come. the armies of ghostly pens commanding an ache forward up hanging edge, up dagger's fulcrum up hill never burdened, up dreaming sky.