I was mad when I wrote that poem,

And I wrote it too fast.

But since I still love you,

I wander happily back to its past.

I read myself because I love myself,

And I still love you, my precious division!

I forgive my poem and all its flaws.

Self-love is my genius—but it’s genius,

Not selfishness, which breaks a few laws.

Revision is my God. Revision, like Criticism, forgives

The awkward poem, lifts my poem up.

And that’s how my love for you still lives.




  1. June 30, 2017 at 2:18 am

    If love is division then to love again is to redivide the spoils.

    • thomasbrady said,

      June 30, 2017 at 1:54 pm

      Or spoil the re-dividing?

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