Remember, poet, while gallivanting across the sky,
Skylarking, shouting, calling names … Walk softly.
Your footprint on rain clouds is visible to naked eyes
Lamps barnacled to your feet refract the mirrored air.
Exotic scents of your hidden vision fly in the face of time.
Remember not to forget the dying colors of yesterday
As you inhale tomorrow’s hot dream, blown from frozen lips.
Remember, you naked agent of every nothing

Bob Kaufman