To Name Love is to Induce Transformation (Phase Change)

Poets oft contend in favor of love’s tangibility 

ensnared beneath their lyricism, the prize of ardent quarrying

The passion-writer’s imperative: Look what I caught

Ringmasters

or else hosts of feasts with love at the center – its mandible about an apple

But know better

relish in the sound of love not without facing its form

its broken lines’ suspension quietly

bridged by intonation

its tapered ends and Fully-Formed Letters invisible to the ear

Poets should know, but then, it's not in their domain

To Know

Theirs is to unknow

To Bow over abysses and artfully precipitate until the bottom’s bastard children might swim 

to the top

And so all night long the bellicose cloudbursts anoint the void surreptitiously

By dawn the earth awakes to a new song on its lips

How does one fill an unceasing chasm or from opposing elements

synthesize? 

I yield to the poets