A practical instruction. Well, no. Not  really.
But a “must read” for any poet.
Depending on your definition of “must.”
 
     And look how hard you’ve been
     working. Does the laborer not pause
     under the midday sun for a sip of water?
     The soldier beguile the hours of bivouac
     rolling coffin nails? Who are you
     to deny yourself the common comforts
     the body demands? And besides,
     maybe you have your poem already.
 
Do you recognize yourself here?
 
     Here’s where the might and majesty
     of the language will step in, married
     in the near night under your little
     gooseneck writer’s lamp. Or maybe
     not. Maybe the might and majesty
     of the language are currently in
     the employ of some other poet,
     likewise desperate to turn a bright sheet
     of foolscap into something deathless
     and deep, and despair begins to set in.
 
Turn your back to it, sugar booger.

Not a project, exactly, my library, not a project in the narrow sense of the Baker Portfolios, but -- thirty-some years in the building -- a project indeed! And a bespoke introduction to the "real" projects that follow. Spread over two rooms and threatening a third, a confederation of sophists and sages in full regalia, casuists and scholars, a throng of savants, midnight soloists and timeless scribblers -- whispering, gibbering, howling from their shelves across the hours, across the seasons. And then, the silence. All in all, the perfect cradle for a grateful writer foraging through his meager nest of ideas. And a lovely place to light up a cigar, to sip a little wine. Come join me . . . .