Wishful Despair

If I could write as fast as thought,
I may capture the beat of Time
And so produce some poetry
That’s better than the ones produced
By thoughtful poets, live and dead,
Who labour over every word
And every mark of punctuation
And every single break of line
And every single turn and jamb
And every single this and that
To match the innate frequency
Of echoes from the boundless Space.

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