ON WRITING

Experience in search of a form
becomes articulate
in the minutiae of detail.
How I use my creative potential
a small portion of the time,
and how I rarely write down
the long flowing inner dialogs,
because I'm waiting for a crystalline
moment to focus in on,
which never comes in that form.
So I wait in vain. Meanwhile,
the Muses capriciously pollute
their teachings with the droll facts
of dailiness until we capsize.
This is not new information—
but poetry is like that.

2/1987