Land to land to land, I ask -
is this where the poets are?
I try all the tongues of man,
but no one answers me.
Sky to sky to sky, I cry -
is that where the poets are?
There are birds and clouds of words,
but none will fly or sing.
Sinking into the ocean of me,
I finally see where the poets are -
verses vaulted, loved and salted
away in the depths of me
like treasure at the bottom of the sea.
For The Tuesday Platform at Real Toads