Poets are really not just people -
they are not like you and me. They may see
the same things we think we see,
but they see it in different places inside their beings,
but they see it in different places inside their beings,
and it rings bells there that we don't hear,
and plays tunes we don’t understand,
and plays tunes we don’t understand,
and they speak with demons and enlightened beings other
than those few we know.
and squint before we shield our eyes.
But now they peer over the lectern staring right at us!
And they open an old rusty door somewhere deep inside of us
and show us - not a new world somewhere
way out there - but a vast ancient world, still asleep,
deep within our most secret places.