It has been said that poetry is basically
a work in progress and that a poem is

seldom completed until the printed word
goes to press. Perhaps, he thinks to

himself, that is why he was so attracted
to writing in that genre. He loves to play

with words, write, reflect, rewrite, excise,
add, subtract, delete, eliminate redundancy

(what?), play with rhymes, meters, free verse
and jailed (what?) all in the name of poetic

progress — better progress than regress,
better “Steady Eddie” progress than distant,

unattainable perfection. And then he
realizes that for all that, it probably has

more to do with the fact that often in his
life he has been told that he also is a

work in progress. Often, he wonders if those
were compliments (what?). Revision: like he

just did for the third time. Steady, steady,
steady as she blows, Eddie (what?).