Absent Savior Complex

Poetry's purpose?
Constant deconstruction.

Poets sentenced to case 
the places of chase.
A most crucial watch:

the effort to overcome
time and space and life and death;
by absolving the situation

of its sins and brims and bottoms;
in other words, to be savior.
Thanks, jeezus, your phonics

are a long echo that started before
some year zero
and pervades the fantastic, 

the fictional,
the factual,
the charismatic potentates,

and is the lead in the hat
of every childhood.
It shortens by grandeur

smittens by smalling
the special into a subserve.
Subversion to mission

and fusion to fission
for greatness and fateness and size.
Goodhood goes godnood goes nodhood,

agreement among and along,
give comma to parry and period wary
as infinite is each our dream.

Make summer a vintner and winter a body
while minding the soul and the hell,
duality's victim, I'm bold and I'm stricken

by wishes for hero and yon.
And yet! The turn! The 'prise and the sur,
may yet and yet and yet

free us and the rest 
from this foolhardy vest
and deprotagonize

these agonies
while shaking instead
with hands and fingers

the instruments for purpose
of music
not supremacy.