The Hungry Artist

I have my work not cut out for me – I have to do it myself.
My work is to cut, replace and add, and for that I turn to a familiar, comforting form
that hasn’t ever completely left me – a prayer:
To the Pagan gods – inspire me with the courage to indulge
in the pursuit of perfection. I will not be satisfied until every word
is in its perfect place, and every sentence the sound of perfection.
Give me the tools for this bloody battle – that individuated space and time,
the will to maintain my hand despite the pretty faces that distract me.
Indulge me.