For Yaedi

For Yaedi

Looking out the window at the trees

and counting the leaves,

listening to a voice within

that tells me nothing is perfect

so why bother to try, I am thief

of my own time.

When I die

I want it to be said that I wasted

hours in feeling absolutely useless

and enjoyed it, sensing my life

more strongly than when I worked at it.

Now I know myself from a stone

or a sledgehammer.

~ David Ignatow ~
(New and Collected Poems, 1970-1985)