Glen Martin Fitch
MY THEORY OF GARDENING
Words shoot out of my pen
like unsown seeds
that never knew a hand
but lie about
to crack the untilled land
with desperate roots,
who know their how and when,
digging fast and deep
and then a stalk up soars.
Ere leaf and bloom expand
I cut them back
again and yet again.
Some favor weak willed vines,
some value weeds.
Their pens are free to roam
as they compose.
I plan. I prune. I graft.
This poet breeds each precious bud
as if a perfect rose.
Curse not the barren branch,
the fallow yard.
To write is easy.
Not to write is hard.
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(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
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