a poets life is not measured in applause
how close each stanza brings him to God
by whatever the name
each super natural loves sonnets all the same
loves the song of the siren
the bow of the dancers back
loves the fingers of the pianist
loves the drummers high hat
the brush stroke of the painter
and the kiss of the mother
the hammer strike of the carpenter
the stroke of the lover...
and act of devotion
demonstrations of edification
not for the applause or standing ovation
but for the love
and if ever once
you thought you weren't enough
imagine what it is you do best
and don't do it for the applause...
do it as a gift.