Poetry exists on every level:
The thought, the written,
The spoken, the heard.
It must persist in every form,
At any time,
Simultaneously.
As the mind hates a vacuum,
It was a chance for Scotland
To insist
That such a place must be,
For the word to live both on
And off the page;
To coexist within the confines
Of the provided space.
A performance poet’s paradise,
The bread and butter
On which they subsist.
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