A short poem about the high and low of finishing a piece of writing.
Complete / IncompleteRestlessness, wandering the streets
the Big Work, first draft done
Too high a high, dropping now
not far enough to hit, dismembered
Know the cure, know the way back up
Kick it in the ass, the second draft
climb back on and ride this baby home
Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow
This poem is included in
THE SMELL OF TWEED
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