Quickly Fashion Lanterns

It’s falling fast, don’t stop
To rescue the language.
Poetry has no years

To be poetic now,
To be too perfect now,
To post manifestos—

Oh it will. Perfection,
And soothing arts and crafts,
And calls to barricades

Will all go on. The goals
Of poetry are old,
Old problems to themselves.

But do we have to pause
For artisanal glows?
Get some lights on. Let’s go.