To compose a new poem every day
(as a way to clear away the cobwebs
cast in sleep, that seem to often obstruct
the door that swings freely between the worlds
of my reality and fantasy;
or at least to oil the rusty hinges)
may not appear much of a regimen,
but more an exercise in self-conceit.

But fitting at least a stray thought or two
into a confined fourteen line iamb
gives me a continuity and frame
through which to observe the remaining hours,
and sometimes makes the dull monotony
of less creative tasks just sweet enough.

15 JAN 2003

Please follow and like us:
Pin Share

Share This:

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.