emotion and imagination are abstractions enough
thinking something is not the same as saying it
and saying it is not the same as writing it down
whimsies don’t easily fit through needle eyes
but you, a poet, must empty your heart onto paper
regardless of the ease or difficulty of expression
writing is a compulsion you have to obey
a call you are forced to answer or deny yourself
wond’rous satisfaction comes as the end
—
but then you also have a drive for perfection
and must hone your writings until they
sparkle in the sunshine of the imagination
to turn editor upon your own creations
is like performing reconstructive surgery
without anesthetic on your firstborn child
you realize your words are not etched in stone
yet changing even a one is the worst torture
’til you learn that love sometimes requires pain
