Tuesday, March 24, 2026

poem

The Grinder

It never comes easy—

Every page stained yellow

By the sweat of the words.

So much effort expended 

Linking one delicate thought 

To the next, again and again.

This is where my renown 

As an inveterate “try-hard” 

Tends to come in handy. 

And while work ethic isn’t 

One of the glamorous talents 

It does have its advantages 

To those painfully aware

Of their own limitations 

To those all too aware 

Of certain artistic limitations.

I’d rather have genius 

But I’ll settle for relentlessness

If that’s what it takes

To avoid the fate of an easy mediocrity.

What can I say? Go all in 

When you think you have the cards

And when it’s all over you’ll develop 

A new appreciation for the ordinary.

I don’t expect to win

But I’m still in the game

And sometimes that’s enough.

Someone sweaty once told me that. 

To be perfectly honest

I just like being able to play.

I could do this forever. 

I’d show you what I am working on

But it wouldn’t make any sense,

At least not yet, barely half done.

Every day I’m out there, at it,

Chipping and scratching an odd

Lumpen shape out of silent stone

That never gets closer to completion.

I’ve never told anyone

Where I hide it.

What would be the point?

One night I was looking at it

Under the moonlight 

And thought I saw a skull—

Alas poor jeffrey,

He was a man of infinite angst

Always his own worst critic

Never satisfied with the quality

Of his accumulative body of work—

One morning I decided not to do anything at all.

Put down my hammer and chisel

And held an oeuvre of stutterings

Close to my chest.

I knew there wasn’t anything there

But peace and gratitude.

It’s going to be so beautiful, I thought,

As the vision of what it was supposed

To be finally revealed itself.

When I die I’ve left instructions 

For its final disposition—

Put it outside

Exposed to wind and rain

So time can sand it down

To its final intangible form

Even after death 

I’ll never stop working,

Putting the finishing touches

On my long anticipated absence.


3/24/26 

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