Poet Standard Time 3

This morning's failed collage taught me a lot about what my brain can and cannot handle. The failed collage—or what it turned into—will not be posted here, but it is safely glued into the trusty notebook, a place not of failure but of process. A place where no lesson is lost (though it may take me a while to see that it was, in fact, a lesson).

"Not what you started out to be." Poets say that often, to the poem that ends up on the page. It's a different process than, say, making something out of stained glass. Which was what my failed collage was supposed to emulate, so let's just be thankful there was no real glass involved.

And I haven't even had my all-grades-are-in mimosa yet.

*

a
solemn
promise

two
extra
minutes
of
light