Why the Holy Men Come Out

The Holy Men walk sidewalks
swishing their black or white robes side-side
all have facial hair, unkempt,
Hake-like in frazzle,
Menonite or Ukranian

dust interwoven network wonder.

Battles of speech go on inside
their heads
but the younger ones say hello
in highly friendly
tones. Fixtures

that come to life, walk all over walls—
that’s what
these men are.

And you know
they are heading to a harbor

a place to huddle
with scant tools,
sipping, spouting, what-soever
they do they do
it
with conviction.

Things are forbidden, but always new therefore.
And cancer cannot give its clots away.