Despair Is Easy, Or At Least Low

Revolution Is A Phase, A Mood, Like Spring, And Just As Spring Has Its Buds And Showers, So Revolution Has Its Ebullience, Its Bravery, Its Hope, And Its Solidarity. Some Of These Things Pass.

There's Enough Food In This World. There's Enough Housing In This World. There's Enough Shelter In This World. There's Enough Clothing In This World. There's Enough Teachers, There's Enough Universities For Everybody's Needs To Be Met, And The Reasons They Aren't Is Not Because Of Lack Of Resources. It's Because Of Distribution, And That's The Politics Of Hate, Which Is Why This Is A Movement Against That. It's A Politics Of Love.

Italian Cities Have Long Been Held Up As Ideals, Not Least By New Yorkers And Londoners Enthralled By The Ways Their Architecture Gives Beauty And Meaning To Everyday Acts.

I Still Think The Revolution Is To Make The World Safe For Poetry, Meandering, For The Frail And Vulnerable, The Rare And Obscure, The Impractical And Local And Small.

Language Is Like A Road, It Cannot Be Perceived All At Once Because It Unfolds In Time, Whether Heard Or Read. This Narrative Or Temporal Element Has Made Writing And Walking Resemble Each Other.