A Poem for 2018

Today was a maker’s day,

a dip in the Florentine pool,

a muse’s shower.

It all reeked of brief genius and

interminable failure (but still,

it’s kept me happy thus far).

Fulfillment is here in this garden,

of which I am the principle plant.

Time and energy, and terror and glee,

are the mixtured manures.

Love and hope, my twin suns.

And art is the photosynthesis,

discoloring me

other

than green.

Remember us, whisper the leaves

in their sleep.

I agree to disagree: forget us

until you need us.

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