is a vocation only God could curse one with--
there's the poet--there's the mystic--there's the saint--
they stumble along howling on street corners--derided
by all who pass--well let all of them have their say--
no matter what mouth issues the Word--soothsayer and mob alike
hear nothing but their own vanity--and the victims of their tirades
are nothing more than skyward glancing earless skulls
Content (c) 2008-2011 Philip Milito.
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