GRAFT EXTRACTION.

And on the next day
I rested,
After wringing the last credible sentence
Out of the alphabet,
And stitching it to the end
Of the mixtures
I’d spent
Energy on;

Not that I’m complaining,
As apart from raising my son,
And taming the demands
And domestic requests of the household,
There’s not a lot else for me to do,
And the holidays offer even less choice,
As only the local grocers are open,
Charging twice the price for everything,

And stringing syllables together
Is not exactly hard work,
Although when I reach
What I believe is a particular rich vein
I’m apt to tap it
Until either it’s dry
Or I am,
And damn thankful for it,

But it does bruise me,
And abuse my turbulent moods
Even more so than the usual chutes
I find myself sliding down,
So I take a break after such brinkmanship
In the hope that reposing
Will allow me to easily slip back
Into the next shaft I find.