of their poems—or of drafts
of their thoughts—or of words
of those thoughts—only just
written-
out kind of
ugly
and—then
tossed! or perhaps—torn
to shreds
of—such—fresh smithereens raining!
down, but
like—what exactly? exactly!
like that!
Yup—like
streams, yes!
like streams
of fresh autumn leaves cascading
so
as to be—? carefully, no
devoutly!
observed—by an eye and perhaps
some kind
of lucky sun? Or—so as to be
just
re-
possessed
fresh and reprocessed
into much
smaller
and kindlier!
kindling for thoughts—to be scrupulously
scooped-
up and laid-out and then, of course, possibly—
completely
renegotiated later.
For the sake of which—
all poets
are learners—not teachers.
