The Work

A true poet never understands,

And thus has an oasis of work,

To struggle beneath witless sands,

And only find worthless coarse irk.

A true poet is never understood,

And thus has vast seas to explore,

To flounder attempts of making any good,

And fail to pass it off as twee metaphor.

A true poet never succeeds,

And thus bravely continues the climb,

Despite their frigid neglected needs,

In service of numb simile and cold rhyme.

A true poet dies in obscurity,

And thus ascends in underground prestige,

A poet's poet in graveless purity,

A buried influence for their liege.

#HI