Poetry. I can’t seem to escape it. I managed to stomp out the poetry more than ten years ago and write fiction. I took a class this semester, had to write some poetry and it’s back. Legal Pads full of scribbled lines, words circled, crossed out, written over again. Sheafs of poems and bits and pieces and revisions, always revisions.
I have the crazy eyes and writer’s hair which is like bed hair only worse. From tugging on it, forgetting to brush it because there are words wanting out. It reminds me of the days when I would forget to make the kid’s dinner. Back when I wrote by everything first by hand and used an old typewriter for the finished poems. It had a br0ken 0 -all of those poems are peppered with zer0’s.
Poetry is back and doesn’t want to leave me again so I figure I’ll dive in and write 30 poems in thirty days. They will most likely be bad but bear with me. April will be over before you know it.
30 Poems in 30 Days
