So many of those things
we must care to capture
before, as we've been told,
they escape--something to do with
the nature of ideas--how never
again will we be able
to find them, or suppose we do,
we will as with the same palate
that took us there in the first place
find, only to resume searching.
But let me tell someone now,
tell myself, even, about the day
I could have done what I'm now doing
yet I cowered and cowered,
looked down then inward
and felt the small teeth of caution:
so while I'm feeling horrible
about this or that not yet accomplished
I have known too that accomplishment
that happens in public view
is not always a reflection of the failure within.
So many things, so many ideas:
and I hear some of you whispering:
Tell us, tells us now...
and laughing, I will pick satchel,
walk one or two steps before
I tell myself to face it....