Friday, October 22, 2010
for Neil Kapit
The poet within us glides wild while we
are manacled by the currents which art
demands we navigate. Yes, we are free
to seek exquisite voyages, ensnarled
time and again by the obligations
that are no less severe forms of bondage
than the mind's circumnavigation.
The artist’s destination is our age
our time, our world, as it has always been.
We are its conscripts though imagine we
do that we rise to be captains of our lives.
Odysseus was delayed by shy winds.
His best friend and enemy was the sea.
No commanders are we, we're craft’s captives.