On Timekeeping

What now? Pettiness and the quotidian funneling our attention, we embrace the short-term, encouraged by a cheap, rapid-fire approach to that “high and ancient art” of writing poetry.

Went for a walk = poem

Drank coffee = poem

Stood in line = poem

Unfortunately, so few can approximate that transformative touch Midas came to regret. Mastery holds no deadline. Harold Bloom once remarked that Edgar Bowers had never written a bad poem. Count them. Why offer anything less?

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