.

From the Page to the Grave the Poet goes—

  Through Hidden Doors & Sketchbook Windows.

We See them in Words, we know them?—No!—

  They've Built the World, may we be Shadow.

As Celestial things, have Given Before,

  Now Earthly things, must Endure

The Tragic Job, of Cultivating

  A Seed, Resisting, its Placement.