A Delicate Matter
There’s something I’m seeing
that I’m not seeing
All the time, I’m
looking, but not seeing that I’m looking
and not seeing.
It’s why there’s no traction
in my action, no diction in my fiction.
It’s a very delicate matter, too big to hold
in my hand unless I grow a new kind of hand.
It’s something that walked on ahead of me
I can only catch with the speed of patience,
the kind needed to jump in a lake
without getting wet.
I’ve been reconciling myself to “the speed of patience.” I’m glad to know I’m not alone with that.
“no traction in my action, no diction in my fiction” I am with you, Mike! This is a lament I think most writers will identify with!
I agree with Kathleen – Also love the way you begin with vagueness and then sharpen to a point! Your poems are ones I look for each day.
Thank you all so much!
I especially love the final stanza, Mike! This is great.
Love the contradictions, is-isn’t, can-can’t, etc. The rhymes are an added delight.