POEM: Howie Tried And True

Too fine
The word
That was lust to him
As a gossamer knight he
Oh Howie tried
And true
Wading in
Only to peer
Parently from know wear
To meat
His every knead
Too fine
Maid flesh

This is a poem about the role of the in writing .  On occasion, I exclaim, “Where does it come from?!”  This is an indirect compliment to that the does, plus a certain on my part for feeling unable to take credit for of my . For me, the creative process often includes the of both peak concentration and seeing something come from seemingly out of nowhere, no place for which I can give adequate account or testimony, except perhaps in a completed .  The creative process often entails both intense flow and an irresistible beguiling that on occasion may be mistaken for .  There have been more than a few times that I have been gloriously exasperated by the joyful wear of a relentless , for which I can only gleefully apologize.  This poem employs a sexual metaphor to better reveal the palpability of the artist- relationship.  Also, this poem climaxes with perhaps the most profound aspect of : , spirit imbuing flesh.  In text, this is referred to as “The Word became flesh,” from John 1:14.  That which is most ethereal — , , light — becomes that which is most palpable to humans on earth.  These juxtaposed are similar to my description of writing as the head and making — which makes me simile.  May your be overflowing as your ineffable spirit is enfleshed in this world.

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