Until a poem is finished
I tease my soul like a cotton carder.
When it's done,
its throne is a full stop
and its title a crown.
*   *   *
Any crane
that once dipped its wing
in the lake of my passion
becomes words for a poem
that I write without end.
*   *   *
I am tired, my friend!
I feel my poem lengthening
into the epic of existence.
I am aware that, in my memory,
words slip out of place.
Let me assign the full stop
and crown it with a title.