crafting a poem

A poem is really crafted in the editing process. I hate knowing this. I hate knowing its true. I’m at a very discouraging part of the editing process. All I have are bits of unpoems. words on a page. cliched words on a page no less. I want to throw them all away and start the agonizing process all over again except logically I know I’ll have to start the agonizing process all over again.

The trash men didn’t take our garbage this morning because it was too full. Like I have the extra space for that. At least it’s getting colder and nothing will reek too much of rot. But that’s how I feel with my editing right now too. Raw chicken, rotten banana peels, toenails, the empty shell of an acorn squash and I’m stuck with all of it for god knows how long. I have to weed through it all to see if there’s anything worth saving and I’m terrified there’s nothing worth saving.

who wrote all this crap anyway? A 10 year old?

Maybe it means I’m growing up. That my style is changing. Whatever it means, I have a lot of work to do and I keep getting distracted. Perhaps it’s time to lock all the doors.

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