They’re clicking beneath my fingers; I’ve waited all day for this moment—and now it’s here.
I’m uniting all of the abstract thoughts of my day and assessing the power of tonight’s Muses: I’m in the process of reclaiming every stray philosophy that I found hiding in between my study pages; the little Platos, feeling mischievous, I suppose, that attempted to provoke me from beneath Milton’s meter; that, foot by foot, florid description by florid description, early American poem by early American poem, kept protruding their anxious heads—daring me to juxtapose them with the beloved poet and compare syntax…and they’re still clicking away!
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