The Difference Between Wants and Desires

by mudrhetoric

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I wanted to write a poem about wants and desires.
But I couldn’t.
At least not yet.
All of words were mere copies of Bly.
All voiced in his cadence.

I’m not old enough yet.
I’ve not worked enough.
I’m emotionally immature.
One has to go into the woods.
Into thr mountains.
On top of hillocks.
Drowned in brooks and streams.

I can’t yet make it my own.
Maybe I never will.
But Bly said it well enough.
Extended from Machado.

All the things I wanted to say.
Were said already.
I had nothing original to add.
So I sat in the mud.
Near the bank.
My hands caked.

I stopped and started.
So many times.
And said nothing.
Nothing new.
But it didn’t matter.
I drank from my cup.
And supped upon wormwood.

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