A Word May Be Filled with Sadness as a Glass Would with Drink

 

Most certainly now is a time that

I can say without trepidation

that my insides are not exploding,

but I recollect a time when I walked

with my friend beside my second favorite

graveyard in Fayetteville, Arkansas,

& it was nighttime, of course, & relatively

quiet, & the stars were lisping their many

& mindless stories, & all, & we walked

in the night, simply, each of us, I felt,

& we talked about poetry & poets

& ideas that we loved, shining from inside,

like something perfect, or beautiful,

shining maybe like a song or Jerusalem.

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