Days of Cultivation
These are the days of cultivation
I’ve made a farmer of myself harvesting words
With which to express my uncultivated mind
How could I reap such a harvest
Without the seeds to sow the furrows of an empty line of text
Must I also make the seeds, the seats of an idea
I spend the days wishing for a garden or a fertile field
In which to sit quietly and breathe the clean air of a small world
To glean an education from a wordless mouth
No gardeners, no farmers,
just me in this field
The people on the other side saying
“you should reap the harvest!”
When no seeds have yet been sown
I pick up the shoots of others’ crops instead
Snatched ideas here and there,
picked out of air
Forming the basis of a point
I am trying to make
That these days of cultivation on
an ill-formed mind
Are put to better use when fertilized
Not standing lost in the field or
staring at the indefinite colors of the garden
They help, they are the space in which to grow
But there’s nothing to feed on
But empty air
