"Every flesh is flawed and poems are flesh." ~ Donald Hall
I think Donald Hall, who I greatly respect, has identified the very human nature of poetry in this statement. We shape word groupings together to establish a creation of language and we hope that it lives up to expectations - both our own and those who read it. But being the imperfect people that we all are, we may write something really well and yet we must know it can be improved.
This falls along the same lines that a poem is never finished, just abandoned. We take the work so far, and maybe we are overthinking it, or tired, or just believe that it is the best that it can be, but we stop. The hope is that when we reach this point, the words will suffice. They will resonate. Knowing fell well that at a future point, we might improve upon this poem.
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Michael Allyn Wells - notes & musings