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First, travel was banned, then theatres and concerts. Ships
stayed at their moorings. The circus was silent, the big top empty.

Out of that silence came two pint-sized clowns, day-glo
baggy trousers, polka-dot shirts, each with a powdered face
and painted tear. They went through their stock of sight-gags
in the middle of the road. No one laughed. The clowns wept
through their powder, through their painted tears.
That night they were taken in chains to a certain building.

Next morning we woke early. The cages and wagons were gone,
the big top folded and gone, the square deserted. A false beard
lay under a tree. A boy put it on. He said, 'Santa. Santa Claus.'
from the book A BROKEN MAN IN FLOWER / Bloodaxe Books
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Christian Wiman's "Fifty Entries Against Despair"
 

"In my experience, the worst despair is meaninglessness. It's not necessarily thinking that you're going to die. It's the feeling that life has been leached of meaning. And that's the worst. And physical pain actually doesn't bring that on. That can come on any time. In my experience, you can have physical pain and still experience joy. Joy can occur in the midst of great suffering."


via NPR
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What Sparks Poetry:
Eli Payne Mandel on Reading Prose


"As a poet and therefore complicit in the making of poems, I have tried to weasel out of this problem—the problem of poems in and against the world—by writing prose poems and poems about prose. Conventionally, the world is prosaic. It unfolds in ribbons of tweets and advertisements. Also: graffiti somewhere in the northern Italy. If my poems attended to and participate in this prose, perhaps they would tell me, or you, something about the crisis we call the present."
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