We all have our secrets.
Secrets so deep, so dark, so terrible, we don't share them even with our closest friends.
During those long nights when our private library becomes a sanctuary against ignorance and misfortune, our secrets abide with us.
This is one of ours...
... we love poetry!
"In these lonely regions I have been powerful
in the same way as a cheerful tool
or like untrammeled grass which lets loose its seed
or like a dog rolling around in the dew."
Pablo Neruda, from Love for This Book
We are a vanishing breed, that would dare construct a private library upon such an unstable foundation. Signs, signs, everywhere the signs: when was the last time that you actually saw someone reading a book of poetry? When was the last time you actually saw a book of poetry published in a hardcover edition that was not a textbook or an anthology?
Poetry, so say the pundits, is the black hole of publishing. If you must publish it, publish it in softcover...in as few copies as possible...or, better yet, have the poet self-publish!
And yet...and yet...
...poetry perseveres!
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