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Ezra Pound said he’d write
a poem each day for the whole year
then re-use the tome of notes
that he wrote, turn each word
to flame, to kindle, given
to ash, without questioning,
because the goal had been met:
the practice to get good.
Words are clay studies to re-wet
press down, throw around, spin
until someday we can be master
potters. Then, after the skill
after the kiln, after the flame,
maybe what is good will remain.
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