A Whole Year to Weave a Handful of Verses!

A whole year to weave a handful of verses! And I still have not finished them… The sensation is of an unacceptable slowness for someone who has in his own work the raison d’être. It bothers, and bothers a lot, this tortoise-like productivity, when at the same time the ideas seem desperate, banging on the bars of a cage, clamoring for release. They want to flood the papers immediately, as I also want to, but I do not let go of the prudent recommendation of “one job at a time”. There is no way to ignore the possibility of an immediate death: should such a scenario come true, there would remain, to a much greater extent than the very few verses I have composed, a disorganized and almost incomprehensible jumble of notes.