There are concrete studies showing that people—when crowded too densely together in work and living environments—become disconsolate, feel obsolete. There is also a certain saturation point of the ratio between geographical area, doctors, and population when a hospital transforms from not only useful, but profitable. I want to know all of these numbers.
Otherwise, it’s become difficult to believe in education in the same way it’s difficult to believe in God. I want to—or part of me does—but as much as I try to focus on the horizon, always coming and always spinning, everything remains flat and the world stays unbelievable.
I like to laugh though. How people laugh, as they timeframe, “Back when poetry mattered.” You know, the way the old guy at the party instantly says I’ll bet I’m the oldest person here.
To write a poem doesn’t make you a poet. A poem is only a spell. A poet transmutes the world.
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