The Poet's Poem

the poet's poem, the part of his body, most precious of all.... he cant live without. boxed up and wrapped, presented as a gift to the passing stranger whose lips a 'quiver! in word, in paint, in carpenter fashion.... built as if a home for the orphaned soul... or potatoes and milk, laid out on the table, for the guests of both this world and that! or a blanket given on some lonesome corner, to the cold and shivering face you cannot remember.... or a man on a cross, misunderstood, maligned.... showing by action, calling for action.... the poet's poem, no charge other than the price demanded by mirror, the echo of your heart!