If love is a form of catharsis
and art is a permanent flop
a poem is a fruit
that should be left
to rot
and love in all its grieving
is always turned to leave
yes, art is a form of catharsis
and love is a permanent flop
yet if the globed fruit glistens
in its mooring by the moon
then art may be redemption
and love be on the move
for love might be remembering
the leaning grasses and sea lights
with words in their untangling
climbing out into the night
so ripen this taking and giving
let flow a rising, divine
this loving, this living, this poem
shall become a project of mine.
This poem arises from:
Ars poetica by Archibald MacLeish
Coda by Dorothy Parker
