Item 1 Laying The Groundwork

Water your pages well with whatever runs

out at first. Sure it'll be embarrassing to mulch

through all that raw pent up sewage, but

you have to do it: it is the only way to provide

a rich loam, give your efforts a happy, healthy home.

Dig down and get underneath the dusty history

clouding up your field. Go ahead, throw it all

across the pages like Jackson Pollack

with a stomach bug. Trust me: it has been done

by all who have come before to this land

and will be again. No one likes to vomit

but everybody feels better afterwards and once

you wipe your chin you can really begin to get to work

without feeling like such a jerk. You've heard it before

but there is a reason they say it: there is nothing

like growing your own, hoeing your row

until harvest. Watch out: the vines will be

very, very thirsty and will threaten the whole

crop, but can and will take direction with enough

patience and a willingness to prune with dispassionate

precision like a hair dresser who doesn't care how you

want to look, just disappears into a conversation

with the hairs on your head. This land is your

land, you need to do the same. Bend down and grab

the soil by the handful, learn where the pebbles

are more plentiful, where to put the seeds.

No matter how obvious or logically they seem

to be laying out, write down where ever they go

or you will not remember where or what it was.

There will be plenty of time to pinch back the over

growth and wend your way out of the weeds.

Don't worry about the ugly ones, you might not

be hungry for root vegetables right now, but come

winter that sucker will yield a great meal. Many

farmers won't tell you this but there really is no way

to tell which of your produce will be the most fruitful,

feed the most people. Just bundle them all up.

Set them on the cart to market and slap

the horses ass. Hyah! Hyah!

For Cathryn, who I think asked how poets and artists are built.