The Editor

I wonder if most poets live with an editor inside them. Mine shows up a day or two after the party of poetry writing. He usually says something like, "What a mess!"

Sometimes the editor will say, “Not too bad considering.” At least half the time it’s, “Well, there’s nothing much to see here.” It’s a strange mix of being heartless and compassionate together, to put something out of its misery because the ones that survive to the next round have passed a severe scrutiny. I have come to enjoy editing as much as the creative process itself, which I never thought would happen since, as a young man, I detested editing as it was so tedious and boring.

I have seen movies where military recruits are being yelled at and even encouraged to quit training. I now treat my newly arrived poems like this. It is similar to building a house. You just cannot have a weak area in the frame or, under stress, it will fail. The older I get, the more I know this is true. Really good editing makes things seamless, smooth, and very readable. The difficult part is knowing when you’re done. Scroll to the bottom to see all the text and a “buy-the-book” button.

                 The Editor 

     The best editor is a killer,
        a hunter of pet words
        and the prettiest lines.
  They'll be put down quickly
        and not see it coming.
           It's a mercy killing.
         He will rid the house
  of those who do not belong.
  He shows up after the party,
when the singing and dancing
         and drinking is done.
      He sweeps up the trash
      but can spot something 
            fine on the floor,
     to be saved, placed later
      among better company.

         Editors have an eye,
           they have an ear
           but it is their feel, 
their touch that we love most,
       because they make us
         better than we were
       when the party roared,
when our judgment was askew
 and everybody was our friend.

This is a typical first pass through the notebook days after. I always put widely spaced hash marks through words that I want to cut, that way I can still see them in case I want to use them later. This poem will be published on August 22. From the notebook they go to Google docs for further shaping up. Less than 25% end up in Substack and very few of those end up in a book. I have three books at Lulu.com.