Once upon a time, I had slightly Bruised my fingerend in tying Unneedful knots too brutally. The knots were sonnets, gracefully 5 Losing bout by bout in rhyming, Despite my careful scratching That annulled no spot of itching. I had not thought that writing Was so much like fighting 10 Or two witches bitching So under-epidermally. I stayed at it relentlessly Tying tying tying Every 15 Musing, Bruising Blossom stylistically. The daisy- Chain was for no one particularly 20 (Or perhaps I am lying) You know how things get tangly When we practice firstly.... The lengthening String of words got too stringy 25 And self-involved in singing That should have taken flight more singly By whistling Unconcernedly And not too self-consciously, 30 The way A clumsy Kite, so sprightly Can climb all day By dodging 35 More effortful breezes, never too longly Lodging, Never aloft too lingeringly Until the crisis of a knot too thoughtfully Unthoughtful cripples the so skyey 40 Thingy Into a crooked tree.
From the collection "Assembling the Earth"
Written by Gregg Glory [Gregg G. Brown]
More information available on gregglory.com.