Sometimes he must stretch –
must stand on tiptoes
as he seeks to find what he has found
so many times before: a poem —
because he knows that somewhere up there
there’s a residue of words
that he must get a hold of
and move them everywhere
until the sense he hoped to harness
yields to his many manipulations.

He’s been known to fail the find he seeks
and days and even weeks might pass
before his stretch might fetch some satisfaction.

He finds it difficult to wait
but wait he must and wait he will until –
until the gifts he seeks are found
and eventually are shared with some folks
who seem to care.

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