What I'm writing now does you so little justice,
learning more from your example, acceptance and grace --
overused as it is -- and when you read my poem -- the one
good one -- that I had struggled with in reading, making
it seem perfect. That poem and me knowing it and wanting
again and again to write the next and the next,
and knowing it can happen again, that urge for creation
even when it is lost beneath the life I'm leading, my job,
the need for companionship, the chase for perfection,
always the need to create and to work at making it better.
And I still want to wear bowling shirts with other people's
names on them and walk into the room completely at ease,
completely knowing that we can all be there: making poems work.
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