Archive for April 11th, 2011

I Just Can’t Do It

For a few days now, I’ve had a concern that I might have writer’s block. I’ve never had writer’s block, so I wasn’t sure how to judge the feeling. Today, I figured out that my mind and my inner-critic has frozen me dead.

Recently, I was encouraged to try choosing a form and to do some form poetry. As some of you may know, I have been working with Tanka. I loved the form because it produced a certain economic thinking about words, which makes me choose words more carefully.  However, now I find that I can’t write with form or without form. I realize that I can’t express myself well with the form, and when without a defined form, I now seem to feel lost because I realize I don’t have any good sense of economy or clarity. I might take a month off and take up photography or painting.


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They Let Me Go Outside Today

They let me go outside today. There was a meeting in the building next door. It was a beautiful day with perfect temperature and a wonderful clarity to the sky. When I crossed to the other building, I felt like a bat who should not be in the sun. The sun was too bright, and I was squinting very hard, creating an ugly look in my face, perhaps like I’d been blasted in the gut with a shotgun. The sun was too interrogative for me. The town was too old, and I could feel it baking. When I shaded my eyes with a hand in salute, I could see the film going super fast and the town was falling apart rapidly, dissolving into a nearly-weightless dust. I wondered if I was meant to be here and if anything around me was meant to be here, and I thought about a farmer, lonely in a field, in the middle of an intense July heat, one that would be here too soon.


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Mark Your Wins, Boys!

Push, push, push! C’mon, boys! I live flat in a culture of ineptitude and watch others who live high drama. I want high drama, but I can’t stand losing. I never lose, but I never win. I could survive a meltdown, but I can’t stand losing. C’mon, boys! I am so lifeless without any competition, you might as well assign me a number, like 925768931, and watch me nine-to-five through a drollness until I fall dead in employee parking.


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