#pea river

I write when I need to say something, or work something out. And I don’t when I don’t, because nothing feels worse than forcing yourself to write when it’s just not there. I’ve come to terms with the fact that I write in fits and starts: I’ll be super creative for a few weeks, a month or two, and then I won’t for a while. And I try not to feel bad when it’s a low period, because I know I’ll tumble back into things sooner rather than later.

Lord knows that if I sit down with the stated intention of Writing A Poem, that’s the last thing that’s going to happen. Poetry is integrated into my life, and the way I write follows from that. It’s not a separate sphere of higher being where I ascend to and receive wisdom from the poetry gods. Without trying to sound overly whimsical, if you listen, really listen, poetry is everywhere. So I’m always just idly thinking in poetic terms, observing the world and my interior in that way. I think of a lot of lines in the shower, or as I’m drifting off to sleep, or with other people. And then the poems grow around those. I’m working on the art of editing my own poems, trying not to get too attached to any one line.

Being immersed in other people’s poetry opens up worlds outside my own. Poetry is also, then, a way towards empathy. This seems achingly important.

Poetry is a wide, warm terrain. I am always walking the line between making poetry that is wide open and utterly unsubtle, and making poetry that lies way too far beyond the pale of interpretation.