Laughing at the dreams unfulfilled
A plane, a boat or a swan half-bent
made out of the paper on which once
sprawled my stories and poems
My ticket to purpose and fame
my way to arriving in life
without ever trying to go anywhere
A pleat, a fold, a rabbit ear
giving the paper a form
that I could not spare
for all the time I spent twisting and turning
winding up in knots over a plot or a theme
Now they take off well,
better than my verses ever did.
Now they sail smooth,
better than my rhyming ever could.
Now they have the elegance,
that lacked in my prose and poems
I wonder if the words scribed on the blank paper
gone into making the plane, the boat
and the swan half-bent
keep the origami from being mediocre
Laughter may be the best medicine,
the ailment of art however (is)
(is) beyond its reach.
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