Kierkegaard Regards

A poet is an un-
happy being whose
heart is torn by secret
sufferings, but whose lips
are so strangely formed that
when the sighs and the cries
escape them, they sound
like beautiful music...
and then people crowd
about the poet and say
to him:  "Sing for us
soon again;" that is
as much as to say,
"May new sufferings
torment your soul." 

~Soren Kierkegaard

Kierkegaard regards
poetry and contem-
plates the tectonic
shift of technology
and the knowing of
things, of seasons, of
secret planets and the
secret places of earth at
the five corners and or the
center of the circle or radius
of people around - the tribe -
and Kierkegaard sighs as 
the sky is seen by these
poets and is torn as-
under. as above 
as under the
words, be-
hind the
meanings
or simple
sounds the
real poetry
abounds and
the way it falls
from the walls as
if fruit too ripe for 
the mind and one
at a time the words
line up in place as
if to say, this is the
way to read me or
to see me or to be
the reader of me,
another lover of
the poetry in me;
full of well wishes,
continued reports
from the edge of
the black hole -
like love like
relationships -
pulls you in and
tears you apart,
slowly ... un-
less - the box
of pandora
slips and
slides
as Soren
tries to sum
up the anguish
of the story-tellers
around the fires over
the years telling tales
of what they see - of
what they saw - of
what they will
perhaps some-
day see or at
night some-
times the
slides of
music
up &
down.

Kierkegaard
perhaps gazed
at the concrete
human reality
of being the
entity known
as poet in
the world
back then,
but times
change and
the stars are
never truly always
in the exact same
place as the uni-
verse constantly
shifts and hic-
cups into new
spaces just
beyond our
reach now.
and so,
crates
of know-
ledge filter
down as the
image of poet
as leper or mad-
man seeing the
glimmer of if all
on everything.