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 paces his way to the other side of day performing entrechats and sleight-of-foot tricks 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 fair eternal form spreadeagled in the empty air of existence

Always risking looking silly and dying whenever he performs above the heads of his audience the poet like a tightrope walker climbs on rhyme to a high wire he makes himself and balancing on the audience's eyes above a sea of faces walks his way across to the other side of the day performing jumps and quick foot tricks and other dramatic acts and all without confusing anything for what it isn't Because he is the ultimate realist who must necessarily see clear truth before taking each position or step in his supposed progress toward that even higher spot where Beauty stands and waits with seriousness to begin her dangerous jump And he like a little Charlie Chaplin who may or may not catch her beautiful eternal form spread out in the empty air of existence