Self-Portrait as a Knot


Behold my nature, gnarly as a knot,

Twisted tight and so-untimely caught

In loop-de-looping laps of circling thought.


These self-inflicted binds won’t let me move,

And all my ends contrive new ways to prove

To God and man that this is all a plan:


This course of snarling strings from end to end.

I’ve buried strands I long ago forgot

And fear that this can only make me fail,


But moves to self-untie cannot avail:

My thumbs have long laid buried in a groove

Beneath a dozen snags I never sought.


I am undone.  And yet I am a knot!


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