The Poet as Miner

Oh, Muses, rarer
than low sulfur coal, you stand
apart, a stretch for poets
to make connection,
an endeavor

like any miner’s industry.
A prayer the pen will find
the mother-lode and then
be able to bring it
to the surface.

Too deep, too shallow,
a tapped out vein, words
are not coming. Axe in hand
we hack through hard rock
hoping to find diamonds.




6 thoughts on “The Poet as Miner

  1. BoardFlak

    I have worn out many a pickax in search of those diamonds, as – I expect – have you. I suspect your ratio of diamonds to quartz is better than mine.

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