sometimes, i think to revise a poem is to reverse its bloom, returning to its kernel… the pit… its seed. we do this for the sake of ‘crafting’… and often it’s most necessary for us to do this, but i’ve read the poems of others in their original drafts and often the melody of them is pitch perfect; as a reader you feel comfortable snuggled within it. though not always lyrically sound, our rough drafts are often the most poetically clear or insightful. the rough draft is the hand of our mind sketching illusion towards reality. the draft often containing fruit-laden branches… in revision, we consider erasure an advancement / whittling away the most astounding emotional context for the sake of the best intellectual punch. we pare back each branch, down to its stub and say “see, here we strike at sap and it is the center of the truth.”
but sometimes, nothing is more truthful than our teeth sinking into flesh, breaking the surface of a ripened skin.
then again, perhaps another truth: i’m just putting off revising these dozen poems i promised to have finished by the end of the month.