Daily Poem for Dancing Mystic Movement Its as if, here too, theres a hierarchy: a Poets Heaven, where the favored few live, feeding on fame, Pulitzers and paychecks on parties, applause and book signings in the midst of endless wine and crackers and cheese. O the celebrity! O the throngs! And then there are the rest of us also in love with the word, the mystery: we dance, unnoticed, in the alleys of the world we dance, barefoot, on the pavement, in mud -- we are the peasants, the gypsies, the beggars dancing outside the Poets Heaven, dancing, nonetheless, under stars. —by Pesha Joyce Gertler
Posted on: Mon, 21 Jul 2014 16:00:01 +0000
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