There are rules about breaking rules. You can do it this way, but must not that way. Cross this line and you get dragons; cross that line you get a good natured slap on the wrist. Beneath the reflective surface of law I have found many shoals and sandbars; rocks and outcroppings, layer upon layer of blue depth I can only partly chart. I also find inquiries in this matter meet with the same reaction as asking about: yeti, crop circles, or what was kept in Uncle Author’s spare room. Those willing to talk about it I often fear to hear from and the reluctant to speak I fear to pursue. You see this investigation is just another thing from under that sea.
Look before you listen
Too often I have abandoned the infants
Of my creativity to doorways and charities
Having little patience I did not raise them
To their intended station.
Joyful parentage need not stop
At the cutting of the cord.
Down playing the importance of each birth
I leave beauty and art to be foundlings
And the province of others.
I can share the guardianship of these precious gifts
And be more than a broodmare for cunning and craft.
I have neglected things
For the promise of each new conception.
Overpopulation weakens the body of work
And leaves my portfolio listless and immature.