The Heidelberg

I had one of those weeks

            on the Heidelberg—

            the kind that can only happen

            two or three or more years in,

            when one knows a little more of what one’s looking at,

            after hours and hours and hours of trial and error,

            lots and lots of error,

            peppered here and there with

            a brilliant success

            that seems a gift from the gods,

            some kind of magic one can hardly grasp

            and certainly not duplicate—

            yet, a source of hope and inspiration.

The week, then, was one of intense frustration

            with rider rollers, sloppy inking,

            slipping plates, double runs

            (as in doing the entire job over)

            to mention just a few of them

            and a final success:

            a beautifully clear, crisp,

            perfectly inked image and text

            (well, to be totally candid, not entirely perfect

            but close—to the naked eye—close enough)

            that moved beyond the realm of magic

            and sat squarely on all those hours

            of practice and observation,

            observation and practice

            and all the while,

            quite slowly, learning

            the zen of standing

            at the Heidelberg

            altar.

                                                            BD 12/7/07