The Call of the Wild (a poem about poetry)

[Franklin Waters]

This is the demonic transformation of a single thought into
armies of words, marching toward the audience
to neutralize the target called "ignorance;"
the contemplative composition of rhymes of justice,
steel jingles hardened against society,
little barbed-wire songs to unleash the energy
of wrong and right that accumulates
day after day;
the threat of something so colossal taking over,
something large and offensive, something freakishly strong,
that is so new and delightfully disturbing
that maybe you'd read it twice;
the overwhelming gravitation of destiny on our spirits
that pulls us toward home--the home outside,
the home beyond--this is
the call of the wild.

This is the artistic conversion of mental images
into a format that the soul can recognize,
a translation;
the spontaneous ecstasy of tumbling down the stairs, face first,
and thinking that you now want to write down
your experience;
the impulse to explode with rage,
balanced out by the control and determination of the mind
to turn its emotions into living, breathing beings,
rather than curses scrawled on loose-leaf paper;
the drawing up of many spiritual plans to turn the Truth
into one solid product
that can be handled not only with the physical senses and the mind,
but the heart as well;
the tying together of multiple webs of thought and associative chains
to form a greater kingdom of intertwining silk passages,
winding through the thick halls of the mind;
the incredible force that calls us to know
the answer in death--something must be real--this is
the call of the wild.

This is bizarre activity completely congruent to liberal, hair-ruffled spiritual revolution;
the visionary consciousness of the ancient psychics
that predicted the who-what-when-where-why of modern life;
the prophecy of mankind, the revelation of Earth's greatest secrets;
the modesty of some piece of humanity;
the blazing, swirling vortex of carnival flames, wrapped around
the whole of humanity, sweating in its doom--must get out--surely
there's a way--this is
the call of the wild.