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The Paper
I have in front of me a dare
To match my skill with others.
It makes me see how small I am
Compared to all my brothers.
I'm thinking of the risk I take
In picking up my pen,
As in my mind old pictures flow
Of art and brilliant men.
There's Gauguin's boldness, Renoir's charm,
To make me feel quite useless.
And then I look at Rubens' grace,
Admiring lines of softness.
And as each vision passes by
Inside me gathers fright
That I might ruin the beauty of
This pure and spotless white.
So now I lay the problem of
A brilliant inspiration
To others who have mastered well
The beauty of creation.
circa 1968
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