Would That I Might

I am still writing at a less frantic pace, and part of it is certainly the result of my rethinking things, but it seems quite funny to me that writing three or four poems daily is a slow day, now.  I have been writing so much, it has calibrated my sense of how much is a lot of work.  That is not to say that I don't still have a bit of struggle at times.  Right now, I am feeling a strong amount of frustration sitting down to right, as my mind is still absorbing the ideas from my workshop and other experiences last week.  I have to think that even writing just " a few" poems daily, I am making real progress, both in building a body of work and in developing as a poet.  The only way through my current state is probably by writing.  I have to discover something that connects my work to what I have learned, as well as in the aspirations that were inspired in me by the poetry and poets I encountered last week.  I do not know any way to really explore that space outside of writi

Awake Too Late The morning will come so soon, tomorrow.  I will be waking early, rising before roosters or sun, it will come soon, I know it will come soon, that I must sleep, but I do not, am afraid to lie down and find I cannot rest.  Better to stay awake too late, pretending it is by choice.

I am finding it difficult to get my writing output back to previous levels at the moment, but I am not certain that it isn't part of a larger issue.  In many ways, attending workshops is a way to refocus and consider the direction my work is taking.  Being exposed to the work of other poets is always providing new ideas and considerations.  The work that is being done by some of those I was honored enough to hear read at the PBPF has me considering what I want my work to do.  As such, I think, in part, my current slowdown is somewhat related to my efforts to find ways of reaching deeper in my work.  While I did not write as many poems during the festival, i was doing work that I felt had deep resonance, that dug into places that were not always easy to reach.  It may be that I need to relax on the amount for a bit and try to really discover how to do work like that more consistantly.

Fidelity I am staring too long at this screen, hands ready, poised, but frozen with no direction.  I am here, am waiting, am willing to stay, to sit alone before this empty page.  I will wait for you to appear, if I must, I will wait.

I am thinking deeply about a lot of the issues surrounding my writing, and writing in general.  For me, the question of what language is and does keeps returning.  I don't yet have a way to really explain my thoughts about it very clearly, but I keep considering the question of what it means that objects and the words that name them seem to become inextricably connected, in a way that changes them both.  For example, in languages that are gendered, objects become female or male.  It is not only the language that maintains the property, it is the object itself.  Words change the things we apply them to, and as a writer, I feel intensely drawn to the mysteries this suggests.

Silent House Today it is too quiet here, in the house. No one else is home, just me, and I do not know how to be here now that I cannot hear other footsteps, now that it is me alone. I am waiting here, in this place of silence, I await your return.

I am slowly working my way back to my writing.  Of course, I am not taking a real break, have been composing daily, but at a slower pace.  I expect that I will resume my previous output, but I needed a little bit of a rest.  I wrote two poems today, one this morning and one tonight, plus what I write for this blog, so I am not slacking by normal standards.  I feel a strong desire to find ways of exploring areas I have found difficult to address previously.  I am not entirely certain of what I am seeking, but I feel I have a long way to go and am excited to discover what I can create.

Suspicion I do not know what it was about him, but he looked very suspicious, that duck did.  Did his quack sound foreign to you?  I couldn't tell, am no expert, but it just seemed to me there was something off with his waddle that I can't put my finger on.  He is a duck, afterall, you know already all the trouble they cause daily.

I am beginning to come back to reality, I think, though it is not easy to readjust.  First off, I am at home entirely alone right now, as Melissa is still dealing with her mother and all of that, and so I am spending a lot of time just thinking through things that I experienced this week.  I am certainly feeling charged with writing poems that have resonance, and I am enthused by the sense of how far I have to go.  It is amazing how being around so many incredibly generous, talented, and respected poets, one's whose work I am often in awe of, is not dejecting but inspiring.  I always feel it shows me just how much is possible, with dedication, practice, and experimentation.

Stray We stop by the road to see if the kitten sitting on the curb will be our friend or if it knows too much of our species already.\ Will it run from even the stopping of our car, little beast fleeing first, not willing to see what is to be if we come too much closer, or is there some chance we are here before others, can show it love before fear has been pounded into its heart?

I let myself take it a bit easy today.  This week was amazing and I feel very much charged to do better work, to press myself to write poems that strive towards doing important work.  I am considering many aspects of the poems I am writing, and wondering how I can keep myself pressing forward in my work.  As such, I gave myself permission to reduce my output for today so I can think and get s bit more rest.

Now, They Want to See You Dance Please, come in here, do a twirl for us or maybe you know foxtrot or tango, it does not matter though.  We do not care what steps, we want to see you dance, we are very excited to see you dance for us.  You do not have to, but we will be happy if you dance for us. You have a choice, you can dance or find out what we do when we are unhappy.

Today was the last day of the PBPF and was a wonderful final day.  This morning's workshop we went through odes from everyone in class, which was quite a feat, considering we have been splitting our time up between two groups, but having one final chance for everyone to be workshopped made for an incredible last class, and as a teacher I see the power of making everyone feel included in the last session.  Everyone is invested in the class, because they have work on the table, and no one is disappointed or left out.  Honestly, I really admire so much of how Major Jackson runs a class.  He is very subtle, as I kay have said, but I am beginning to unpack the power of certain minor things he did in class, not only in terms of his ability to directly inspire students to do their best work, but also the way he makes the environment of the classroom nurturing and safe.  Honestly, some of the work that I handed in was truly difficult and personal material, and I saw similar work from other

All That I Owe to You I am here because of you, made it all this way because of all you shared with me, but you must know your role in insuring I've gone no further.

Tomorrow is the last day of the Palm Beach Poetry Festival.  It has been a truly wonderful experience, and one I will be unpacking for quite some time.  For one thing, I think that there is a lot more in what Major Jackson presented that deserves deeper thinking.  His approach as a teacher is very devious, I think, in it's subtlety.  While the assignments he provides at times seem clear, when you dig in on them, they become far more expansive, and he creates a context for each one that directed my thinking towards poems that I might not have felt prepared to write, but knew were important.  I think that what I've been learning this week is going to keep me thinking for a long while. Beyond that, their have just been amazing events at the festival.  Tonight Patricia Smith came and gave an astounding reading.  She has been working with the PBPF all week doing presentations for high school students, work that I believe is incredibly vital.  Her dynamic energy and work is certain

Another Ending is due tomorrow, a stopping of activity, tomorrow will be the day it ends, the day of loss, when the world will lose one more thing, just one more ending. There have already been so many, but one more hurts as much as any.  Will a day come when it will not hurt? Will that be a good day, or is it another even worse ending.

The poetry festival is really going incredibly.  Last year was really what got me back into gear with my poetry writing.  Though I had been trying to get work going, it took the push I had at that time to get me to commit once more to making poetry a daily practice for me.  This year, I arrived in a very different place.  I am writing incredible amounts of poetry, so what really I wanted was more of an opportunity to get deeper into the craft, to work on pushing myself further.  Spending even such a brief time in a community that is committed to poetry is also, in and of itself, an important thing, especially in terms of the kind of support I tend to find from other poets.  As well, the workshop I am in is itself incredible, and I am finding that Major Jackson's approach is helping me to find the work that I've often been afraid or hesitant to write, which may be the most important thing for any poet.

Animal Uprising Who would blame them if the animals started to organize, to create there own resistance to the overwhelming existential threat that is the human race?  Imagine it, all of them getting together, deer and mice and cows, cats would probably go for it, though dogs might hold out until the food shortages. Imagine the blockades, herds standing in the road refusing to move.  We would not have a real chance, not if they were all involved, if the insects got on board, the rats, the spiders. At sea, whales could throw aside their enmity with the giant squid at least long enough to take down a few tankers or shipping vessels.  Maybe they could even get the plants on board, after all, they are the real power of everything, those plants, the one's who feed themselves upon what the sun provides.

So, I had a bit more trouble tonight with the exercise.  It was the least complicated of the exercises we have been given, and I do not really understand my trouble with it.  The only thing we were told was that we needed to write a poem about an animal.  My difficulty was more that I feel it was important to make it a real animal, and I tend to write about animals in a way that is less realistic.  In my poetry, most of the animals are fairly human, or at least are not typically limited to behaviors that any actual specimen would enact.  This resulted in my feeling a bit blocked.  Add to that the fact that it was already late when I got home, and I was a bit stuck.  Honestly, I am not certain about the poem I handed in for tomorrow, but I think that is probably okay.  It may well be that my own feelings are not an accurate reflection of the work.  Indeed, in class today, another participant commented that they are usually enthused when another writer is hesitant to share work or offers

Turn Around This is not the way to town.  I promise, there is no town behind me, no, the town is back that way, of course it is.  You do not have proper guidance, are headed towards no place, certainly not to town.  No, you must turn around now.  The town is that way, do not doubt me.  I have no reason to lie.  Why would I want to lie, a stranger, a foreigner, a man from other lands, other cultures will always be welcome here, would never be turned away, we always want people in town who do not know our customs or understand our ways.

Workshop today went quite well.  I had the very first piece that was read in class, and I felt quite good about the input I received.  I have a few ideas of things I want to do in terms of revising that poem, and I think it gave me a good sense about some of the places where I can dial down with my work.  The class is really quite amazing.  Major Jackson is focusing largely on how we can, as writers, approach difficult poems, attempting to communicate things that often are not easily captured by language.  The exercises he is assigning are intended to help us discover things that we might not have been considering, as well as considering formal aspects that might provide new approaches in our writing. I also decided, tonight, since it is so late, to only write twelve poems today.  I could finish the additional six, but I think I am better off getting to bed.  I intend to make the poems up tomorrow, and then to attempt to stick with a twelve and twelve schedule generally.

He Has Too Many Smiles and each of them is too long, they never even fit on his face at all, extend out so much those lips must be artificial, rubber lips that let him smile so, that make it easy to mold a smile too big, a smile that would hurt, that does hurt, even to look at it, it does hurt.

Tonight was the first night of workshop for the Palm Beach Poetry Festival, though it is mostly just a meet and greet, and some housekeeping type things.  A lot of getting to know the people in workshop and getting prepared for class.  I had been concerned about which poems to bring to class, but I had forgotten that the class was generative, so we were given an assignment of a poem to write, and had to bring that in for class tomorrow.  As I am keeping up with my usual writing (currently six in the morning and twelve in the evening), writing one for the assignment was not a difficult matter for me.  It did take a bit late into the evening, and the workshop starts early tomorrow, so, I think I am going to keep this short.  I do want to mention that Melissa left today before I went to PBPF, and I am quite down that she is gone.  Still, I am going to make the most of the festival, which means I should get to bed now.

It Is Time to get moving, to move from there to here or perhaps it is easier to go from here to there, being here already.  Why go there to come back again, unless there is something to be done there, but in this case it is not that, it is time to move from one place to the other, to move forwards from wherever to another place.  Progress, or at least change, which is not exactly the same thing, but it may be all that we can muster.

Tomorrow is the start of the Palm Beach Poetry Festival and I am very excited to be taking part in it once more this year.  It should be a wonderful time, as it always is.  I am very excited for the gala reading by Joy Harjo, the current Poet Laureate, as well as for the workshop I'll be attending.  It is an amazing event, and I know it will be incredible this year, as it always is.  Even more than the events, the people are incredible.  Freesia McKee, whom I have mentioned numerous times, is one of the friends I made through the PBPF, to offer one example. Today, though, events conspired such that Melissa is going to have to leave town tomorrow.  Honestly, I am pretty upset about it for a lot of reasons.  It is not her fault, and I am not angry at her in the least.  I know she would rather stay, and that she has enjoyed many of the events from the festival in the past.  But, there is an emergency she has to deal with, and it requires her to be there in person. While I do accept

I Think That It Is Completed that is, I think there are enough, that the amount is correct, is sufficient, but it is not easy for me to keep track, there are so many here, perhaps it is not enough, or they are no good. Just tell me, must I keep going? I wish to stop, but I will keep going, will do more if only you will ask.

I have once more made it to my office to do my work today, and am hopeful about being back on schedule.  At the same time, I will admit that I procrastinated quite a bit this evening and could easily have finished work far earlier, but that is not the same issue, so long as I don't allow it to become an excuse not to work, and, at this point, not to get to my office for at least some of that work.  I certainly am not disdaining writing on my phone, as I still believe it has provided me a valuable, albeit different, mode of work.  I am more meticulous on the phone, as it is a bit more arduous of a process for me, and I am also more prone to mistakes while typing, so I tend to be slower.  This results in my doing quite a bit more thinking before I write.  While I am comfortable just letting loose on a keyboard, on the phone, I tend to chunk sentences or lines in my head first.  I compose a whole phrase before I set a word of it down.  This results in a very different process and in d

Seeking A Purpose I wonder at the need we place to have purpose in life, the burden of it, the denial at heart which says to be alive, to experience the world and be part of it is not enough, must be given more, as if what happens to anyone does not matter, is not important already, important because it is an experience that is being lived, because it matters to exist, to have an experience in the world.

Today, for the first time in a very long while, I managed to work in accord with my schedule, and to take advantage of my office both in the morning and evening sessions.  As a result, I wrote more, with the end result of nineteen new poems today.  Though I do not want to jinx myself, I do think this will provide a good deal of inspiration for me to keep working in this same way.  I hope so, at least.  I think that I am less inhibited writing on the computer, in some ways, as a result of the ease it provides me.  It is certainly true that other work has qualities I admire which are borne of limitations imposed by such difficulties, but I think, as well, that I can integrate what I have been learning from those approaches in my work at the computer, pushing further with it, while having an ability to focus on the work and not the process of composing it.  I never get entirely out of my body when on the phone, as I am not truly fluent with that keyboard in the way I am at the computer. 

It Must Be Chosen Again, Daily Must be renewed, the choice taken once more, though it may be as hard to say yes to it all again some mornings, it must be a daily choice, not a thing done once and accepted forever. Choose each day, choose it again, or you will never discover why it was you chose on that first day.  Do not cease to choose, do not forget you must continue. To choose not to continue, to continue without choosing too, without renewal each day: they are the same.

I am at my desk, in my office tonight.  It has been less and less the case, but tonight, I am here.  I know I do not work the same way when I am writing on my phone, and I have been glad to have that freedom, but it is also clear that I find working in the office far easier in many regards.  That does not make the work better, necessarily, if I am honest.  Many would argue that comfort and ease are obstacles for an artist, though I do not think of this in that regard.  Still, I am glad to be able to explore working in ways that are varied, though I do hope that tonight's reminder of what I find at my desk that is not present elsewhere helps me to get myself back to working here, and that this, in turn, also helps me to regain my earlier schedule.

Bone Lessons We learned of ancient kindness from the remains of broken bones, of disease, from all that was frail about the neanderthals we found, skeletons missing limbs, arthritic joints clear even after so many centuries, signs of injuries that should have been fatal in that harsh world, the one that came before our ascent, the world of cavemen, of hunting giant beasts, hiding, shelter, chance against cruelty.  But the bones had healed. injuries were old, even the ones who must have been blind did not die of it, not for years.  We see it, the growing of bones beyond sickness, signals that those who no longer were able to move fast or be part of the hunt were not immediately left behind, but cared for, fed, their toothless mouths offered the softest, kindest of sustenance.  They healed, others kept them alive so that they could heal, cared for them, cared for the old to keep them from leaving as soon as the world was urging/

Well, I am still having difficulty with getting my schedule adjusted, but at least I got the work done earlier in the evening.  A large part of the issue is getting myself to focus properly, I think.  Tonight, I focused in on the writing, and it went rather smoothly.  Of late, that has not always been the case, though I will admit, it is likely that it is just an accumulation of bad habits that have been causing this aspect if my recent difficulties.

Obesity I am told I must make these changes for my health, must alter things towards better outcomes, but it is not possible for the doctors to say what will actually work in creating the desired outcome, they can only tell me I must find a way to do it, though practically no one has ever succeeded, not in the long run.

I am getting more work done in the morning this week, even if not as much as I would like.  It is strange how difficult it can be to make such changes.  It is some mental block on my part, a fear of some sort perhaps?  I cannot really say why it is that I have been having this difficulty, not am I sure what approach will work better.  In the end, I know it is in my control, even if I am struggling to exert that power over myself.

Uncertain Future I do not know if I will hear from you tomorrow.  It was confusing, was I invited to breakfast, or did you only mention it to me for no reason?  I think someone suggested I could go, but there was hesitancy, as well.  I do not know, will have to wait and see, though I might be better considering why it is I want to be invited, to join you at all.

This morning I gave a presentation on contemporary poetry to a group at the Boca Raton Museum of Art.  It was a fairly simple presentation, a discussion where I read a poem and discussed it with the group.  It went over incredibly well, despite the fact that I had been warned that several people in the group had expressed skepticism about a presentation on poetry.  In truth, I dolittle more than select the poems and offer a bit of a poke to get people talking.  To me, the magic is that poetry works.  It is not that I was an amazing presenter, but rather that the poems themselves have power.  Many think that poetry is not for them, but only until they have a true encounter with a good poem.

Critique That is no way to tell a story, it had endings and beginnings all over the place, but the middle was randomness about the dogs of the main character's uncle, who was barely a character at all, and the dogs were neither well presented as dogs, nor personified. The whole bit about the fire was not explained, nor was the appearance of the glowing sky fish.  It was fine that it went all over, that it was weird, but it would have been better if, at least, the boy got the girl, even if she was really a leech that had been transformed by withcraft.

If i am honest, I did not get any of my work done earlier today.  This week, overall, has been the most consistent for that, but I frittered my day away without doing my writing.  Still, I did get it done in the end, so there is that, but it does not change that I need to make a real effort to shift back to a more consistent schedule.

At The Fun End of The Table He tells me I was lucky to sit where I was at dinner that night, says I was at the fun end of the table. How fun, sitting at dinner, eating my meal besides a woman who announces she is an expert in weightloss, has appointed herself my personal diet guru.

Again, I did a lot of work earlier in the day but was busy until late.  Tonight, it was because Melissa (finally) came home.  She has been away since the 19th of December.  Her flight was quite delayed and did not arrive until after 2 in the morning, but she is home now.  And now, I am done with my work for the night and can get to bed, so that tomorrow I will be able to spend more time with her.  Hopefully, he being home will also encourage my getting back on a more reasonable schedule.

Nostalgia They are imprinted by an antiquated notion of what is normal.  They want that back, will not see they have lived longer than the ways they grew up with.

So, I had a rather late night, but I did get a large amount of my work done earlier in the day.  I still had a few poems to meet my quota, but a great majority were done before the evening started.  I was actually busy pretty much entirely from s quarter of four until at least one thirty, so it was quite good I had done so much work already, as I wouldn't relish working until near dawn again this week.

No One Ever Speaks to Him You are new here, did not, could not, know, so we will let it go, will not worry about it, but do not talk to him, he knows why, but do not ask him because that would be talking to him.  We have the power to make certain no one talks to him, imagine what else that power can do to others who cross us.  Do not talk to him, no one ever speaks to him

I did begin work early today, but only finished a small amount of work.  It is still a step in the right direction, though it is a step back from yesterday.  I know that I am going to be busy tomorrow evening, so I am hoping that will help me to get motivated in the morning. 

The Snails are massing to the west. They have heard what is planned, have been driven to action. They have come together, all the bitter differences that had kept them from unifying are over, now the snails are all prepared to act as one.  Look how they stand, shell to shell, so close.  They are coming. You laugh, but look again, there are so many, even snails can rise up when they have such numbers.

I did get to work early today, in my office, even.  I hope that I will be able to repeat that tomorrow.  It might be that I am finally moving towards restoring my schedule, finally.  I am going to take advantage of this and get myself to bed early.

Dissection Pull apart each bit so it may be sorted.  There is much in this, water and fire, air and matter, soft shall be taken from hard, light ripped away from dark, shadow over here, caster there.  We must find how much of each there is, must understand what we have: the only way to understand is to tear it to pieces, to sort, to see what it is made of.  Do not worry at all about the whole or whether it desires a different approach.

I had hoped to get work done earlier today, but it is still difficult for me to shift back into my routine.  In part, I am still finding it difficult dealing with not having Ulysses here in the mornings.  I always had to get up early to give him breakfast and medicine.  It feels quite sad, empty, to get up now, and I don't have the energy to get to work right away, even when I am up.  I know he was only a cat, but it has been very hard adjusting to his death.

Erasure What was here before has vanished, can never be recovered now. It is erased, a secret of the past. No one will know what was here: if they seek answers, we will make certain they are not found.

It is nearly five in the morning, but Indid my work.  If nothing else, I am dedicated, but I need to change this.  I hope I consider that tomorrow morning.

Come Along with Us We are more fun than those people, we do not worry about the rules, no, we do what we want. They are not so fun, you do not want to be one of them, we see that you have potential, we would like you to join us.  It would be a shame if you did not, especially since we do not want to do to you what we must to people like them.

It is hard to believe that I have now written five hundred journal entries on this blog.  While I do hope that these entries can be interesting on there own, I know that the consistency is what is most helpful for me, especially when I am faltering in some way and can use this as a place to commit to my work and to explore why I may be having difficulties in the first place.

What about The Hours? Aren't you worried what the other hours will think of this new arrangement? They will hold the day itself, the night too if they must.  And I cannot imagine the minutes or seconds falling in line with this.  Time is less agreeable than you seem to understand.

Today was a rather long day, and I did not have many opportunities to get to work, as I was out from fairly early in the morning.  I was quite exhausted, enough that I almost did not finish my work, but I kept going and now, finally, I am done and can get to bed.  I need to alter my work habits to prevent myself from perpetuating this, but finding a way to do that has proven elusive.

I Have to Tell Him though it will be difficult to say it all, and I am sure he will not understand, will not recognize my feelings as valid, will think it is an attack, will hold it against me that I said anything. It will not go well, it will hurt me, cause him to hurt me again, but I must, to say nothing would mean letting him think it was alright with me, that he did not violate me, that it was completely fine.

Though I did end up doing most of my writing late tonight, I did start work early today, writing a few poems in the morning.  While that is not ideal, it is a start, moving me in the right direction.  I have been having such a time getting myself working in the morning lately, and changing that is a priority for me, so any path forward is a good one.  While I would, ideally, be more disciplined, getting any work done in the morning is something I want to encourage and promote in my habits, so if I write even one poem when I get up, that is a small victory.

Diet It is difficult, at times it is difficult, at times like tonight, tonight it is difficult.  It would be easy to give in, tonight, to find defeat would be simple, would only take giving in, and it is so difficult to fight against desire, against the other impulses, though why it is worse tonight, I cannot say, but it is worse, I think it is worse, but perhaps I thought that last night or this morning, I am not so certain, my mind is clouded by these longings.

I had a very constructive day working with Freesia today.  Most of it was focused on planning my efforts at submitting work this year.  I really want to get more work out, and I hope to perhaps get a bit of traction in terms of publishing.  I have learned a great deal from writing so much this year, and I believe my work has grown and changed in positive and exciting ways.  I really long to get my work out into the world now, but it is still difficult to submit at times, but with Freesia's help and support, I am hopeful that I will be able to make real progress in terms of my career goals as a writer in the not too distant future.

I Always Worry The Cat Will Escape out the door when I come in, though we have no cat, not any longer, not for several months now.

Well, I failed to make it to my office again today, but I am working with Freesia again tomorrow, and I think that may help break my current cycle.  I do need to get to bed, though, as I am picking her up in the morning.

I Will Behave This Time Let me in, please, I only want to come inside, that is all, I won't break your dishes or smash up the furniture, no, I will not write on your walls with magic marker, break your mirrors, your windows, the television, no, never, not me, I am not the kind to throw all the food from your fridge onto the floor, cracking the eggs, the pickle jars, all the condiments really, the ice from your freezer.  No, that is not my way, I just want to come in, please, it would be so nice of you to let me visit.

Though it is a new year, I am still stuck in the same habit of getting to work far too late.  However, I do have to say that I am at least working on my computer tonight, instead of my phone.  I am hoping this is a shift I will continue, especially since I can see how much easier it is to write on the computer.  The phone has been quite convenient, which is great when my ankle is really sore, but working on the computer is far better for me.  I, of course, knew this, intellectually, but I had grown accustomed to the phone, and I don't think I was allowing myself to think about how much more conducive I find the computer.

The Television Is Not Tuning Right We cannot get the signal clear.  We only want to watch our show, but the television will not cooperate, though this is it's only purpose. How silly a thing it must be to think we will put up with this kind of behavior from an appliance. If it does not start acting right, does not begin to do it's job without all this fussing about, forcing us to wobble the antenna just to get a picture, or going to static at the climax of the episode, we will have to consider new methods of convincing it to work properly.