tell me that there is a place in this here and now, this year and century, this wide fucking world,
for visionaries who have cocktail tea parties on balconies. for scholars and raconteurs
who make each other dizzy with debate and live atop ever-growing piles of literature.
for poets who seclude themselves for countless hours at a time to mull over a single sentence.
for gypsies and road warriors who sleep only when their bodies collapse in exhaustion, but never defeat.
for vagabonds who indulge in behaviors that cut ten years off their lifespans
and add ten paragraphs to their life stories.
for visionaries who have cocktail tea parties on balconies. for scholars and raconteurs
who make each other dizzy with debate and live atop ever-growing piles of literature.
for poets who seclude themselves for countless hours at a time to mull over a single sentence.
for gypsies and road warriors who sleep only when their bodies collapse in exhaustion, but never defeat.
for vagabonds who indulge in behaviors that cut ten years off their lifespans
and add ten paragraphs to their life stories.
................................................................................................................................
I have always recognized beauty in grief
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