Archive
11/22/09 - (3)
Palimpsest
At sixty-eight, I realize how providential I am, To possess my health, my sanity, my imagination, My passion for composing verse,
All seconds, minutes, hours, days of my eternity, How gifted I am, to yet be shaped by the self-reliance That makes seclusion inviting, exciting, illuminating,
Knowing that creativity and I are each other's muses... How privileged my life has been, For being nurtured on independence, spontaneity,
That rapturous capacity for making, from scratch, Something absolutely unconceived, Something that never existed, never would have, without me,
My seeing each second, minute, hour, day, eternity As a precious palimpsest waiting for me To overlay my mind on its cramped, cryptic spaces,
Leave it behind, as my legacy — My scrawl crawling all over the collective unconscious, Saying no to anonymity, yes to I am, forever.
11/22/09 - (3)
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