Tuesday, August 7, 2018

When This Poem Began

Consummation – 
devoutly to be wished – 
this slippery evasion: 
to let the yearning be 
its own reward – 
less grasping-after 
than a moving-toward! –
No, that's not what 
it wanted to be.
When this poem began
like Pinocchio
to turn from an 'it' to a 'he',
I was tempted to trade it
for something more 
neatly aligned with
my own kind of poetry.
But then it reminded me:
"I am a pilgrim! And I tread
my own road to joy."
It's a good little boy.
If you see he’s paraded
down roads on my dare
which he took 
that he’d get to that joy,
let me know if he made it.


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