October #1

Cobblestones just want to wrench the cartilage from your joints, throwing themselves into the street's geography like huddled children hiding, rock-shaped, under bedcovers. They can be a tap-tap-tap companion on your journey, or a series of hardships to overcome. Rainwater sweeps down the streets and drowns them into small, abandoned islands. Even with the flood, they will bend and buckle your ankles in an attempt to keep you close.

Excavate I

Poems are relics of what you bring back from an imaginary creative place.

I wish I could take you with me.

I know you watch me, unable to access

the world inside my head

that tempts me away

in the middle of the day,

in the middle of conversation,

in the middle of a thought - 

I wish I could give you a reason other than:

I measure my life by poems,

map the world in sheet-paper.

I wish I could keep the explanation going,

drive it further,

until understanding colours your eyes.

I wish I didn't have to say,

I'm sorry. Tomorrow, more tomorrow.

My new project for the next few days:

"Our first mini-challenge

Research synonyms for “unearth” or “dig” or “cull.” Pick one you like. It will be the title of your series.

Now, with the images conjured by your series title swirling in your mind, go through your notebook and find a subject for a poem. If you don’t keep a notebook, sift through any book or paper or magazine, preferably something in print. Digging is a physical act.

Do this every day for three days, starting today. You will end up with three poems that may (or may not) be related to one another or to the matter of uncovering something, but they will be three poems you didn’t have before. And you shall be known henceforth as the one who is not afraid!"

 

Care of Read Write Poem.