I'm editing my thesis, I promise

T-3 weeks until thesis must go to second readers. Cue odd feeling of detachment from all of your poems sitting there on the floor. You feel unable to verify you've actually written these words on the page. You're not sure if you should really be writing haiku, since editing takes you straight to "less is more" land and won't let you go. Poems once sprawling, unwieldy, adventurous, (and perhaps misguided) are now paired, sliced and diced from the direction of the Internal Critic.

Ah, but there is hope: spatial organization of poems makes for a lovely carpet.