Exhortation!
Poets! You are the lips on fish swimming the upstream of tomorrow, the fish resurrected after the ocean succumbs to the tongue of dead economies, dead ideologies, the moribund and liquefying rhetoric of the hedge fund. Poets! You are the tango of redemption, the cha-cha of chutzpah, the Aztec two-step of the be-bop of ecology. You are the ace up the sleeve of the laughing Buddha, the codex of afternoon sex, the ex-stutterer texting the elocution experts, the voice of Nav saying turn left at the next chromosomal mutation, right on the sublimated passion parkway, straight into the womb of yes. Poets! Ask not what your askew sanity can juice from the reproductive machinery of death, but what the caliginous junk heap of death says of the living. Poets! Eschew the static of deception that pits us versus our verses, me versus you, red versus blue, mind versus heart. Poets! Let your words be a start, a seed, a lantern in nightest dark, let them illuminate the pumpkin’s grin, the fugue of longing in a dog’s meow, the sperm romancing the egg, the ancient chant streaming from compassion to regeneration to muse to music to the polyphonic squeal of gladness fruiting again and again in the hodgepodge stewpot of fecund life. Poets!