The Poet

The one who pretends everything.
The one who makes and believes.
The one who climbs a mountain in the morning

or not. The one who
loves the time of day. The one who
doesn’t know what time it is. The one who

thinks love is a good excuse.
The one who has no good excuse?
who has no good excuse to go there.

All sorts of interesting language there.
All a manner of poet there
in-colloquy, convinced that

This, this is the way to say so.
There, there?there now, the poet awalking
could as easily speak to your

living room and make you feel at home.
Listen, poet?hear, now:
verse, like walks after dinner,

is a pastime?society expects us to
get bored before joy sets in, well
this ain’t no social hour this hears

the great ear of
God; God is
quiet enough

to hear Godself
think, which is quite quiet enough
to hear the rest of us exist, or struggle

to do so, and quite enough to make God
thunderous and real
in a thought.