Friday, December 3, 2010

Charles Simic writes a poem

he writes one thousand times
the same poem, over days, months, years,
one word changed, one word kept,
always keeping the same spirit alive

at times whispering in the dark,
scraping each word against the other,
 lighting a match to
watch it all go up in flames
only to start again from memory,
words partially reemerging from
the ashes.

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