Constantly risking absurdity
and death
whenever he performs
above the heads
of his audience
the poet like an acrobat
climbs on rime
to a high wire of his own making
and balancing on eyebeams
above a sea of faces
places his way
to the other side of day
performing entrechats
and sleight-of-foot triks
and other high theatrics

and all without mistaking
any thing
for what it may not be

For he`s the super realist
who must perforce perceive
taut truth
before the taking of each stance or step
in his supposed advance
toward that still higher perch
where
Beauty stands and waits
with gravity
to start her death-defying leap

And he
A little charleychaplin man
who may or may not catch
her eternal form
spreadeagled in the empty air
of existence.

Creen que sea cierto??