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we are the poets and prophets of our generation.
the city dwellers, the beatniks,
and vagabonds.
we are the mind and body of our time.
we are the saints of the streets,
troubadours of urban decay.
we are filled and found wanting.
we are sinners and wise men,
visionaries and fools,
we shout but will not be heard.

we sing our sadnesses and our joys,
we write our triumphs and our failures.
we are many souls in single bodies.
who is like us?
we are surrounded
and we are alone,
standing in dingy, ill-paved streets,
or shouting at the endless sea.
we are men of many sorrows,
but always we have our visions,
and our grace.

alone, we whisper to the empty city,
in the perfect american night.