The Grass Ain't Greener

The clear sky is thought without an idea, like a garden that is all green.

 A flawless poem except for its excess of clarity.

The sky lacks even a passing cloud to awaken imagination from the numbness of blue.

And the green garden lacks another color—red or yellow or lilac—and lacks jackals, so that the heart might be perplexed among the varieties.

For perfection is the enemy of inspiration.

And the poem needs something resembling cunning defect so that we believe the poet

 when he lies and writes about the soul's bewilderment

between a clear sky and a green garden.

What need do we have for poetry if the poet says:

The sky is clear. And the garden is green?