how tall is your order?
how short is the time?
how many presidents does it take
to screw a light bulb into the unholy war
so that one might see?

the sax player blows his best line
into the fiber of the gods & goddesses for
the love of it
as the poet blows alone on the page
& lites the dark
for love of the muse

we go
          we blow

the poem as prayer
as gift
          & song

a craft & smithing
a call & response
& if somebody digs the line
then
          yes

the mad & homeless
consecrated in their exile
sainted by the poem

a conspiracy of angels
whispering directions to
a dancer in the dark
stepping to the rhythm
of the poem
piercing the steel veneer of
something like freedom
marching thru the desert

the revolution of one
steadfast before the legions

do you hear the call?

rise up poets
all things holy
the word holy

rise up & stand before
the blameless schools of the
fundamentally certain
the politically corrupt
& the corporate insane

rise up
& stand beside
the word

the task at hand
before you

the poem
alive

pumping
like a fire
in the heart
of the sun