Old Dogs

KAZART


the process
continually
amazes me

splattering confused
thoughts and ideas
onto an empty page
laughing at the mess
and shaking my head
at the presumption
that I ever had
an ability to
write

then
with revision
a transformation
suddenly takes place
a rhythm emerges
a tentative flow
is somehow established
as if something lurking
outside
the cognitive senses
is compelled
to step in
and lend
a little order
to the cluttered chaos
of fractured
thought

once comfortable
with the creations
I'll make them
presentable
then file them
away

some days later
I'll reread
the results
and wonder why
I ever wasted
the effort
at all