I wrote a poem this morning--my poetry notebook tells me that the last poem I wrote before this one was April 14. Can that be possible?
On the one hand, I'm surprised. I feel like I've been writing a lot, and perhaps I have, but it hasn't been poetry. My goal is two poems a week, and for much of the year, I've been successful.
But on the other hand, I'm not surprised. Two weeks ago, I was getting ready for the arrival of our college friend, and 1 week ago, I was taking him to the bus station. In between, I did a lot of travelling in conjunction with the retreat in Richmond that I helped lead.
This morning, I wove a poem out of the couple that I saw at the bus station, the ones kissing passionately and looking mournful, as if one of them was headed off for a long exile. The poem considers old Prince videos and the last time we danced. The poem suggests that we will all go off into exile at some point.
Here is the beginning of the poem:
In between the grocery store
and the laundry, there is the passionate kiss
at the bus station,
the kiss that is not yours.
These lines came to me when I was feeling a bit of despair at having let so much time slip by since my last poetry writing session, when I felt uninspired, like I couldn't remember ever having had an idea for a poem. And then the first 2 lines came, and then the rest of the poem came fairly easily. I needed this kind of experience this morning--I'm glad it wasn't the wrestling line by line that I sometimes experience.
I am glad to get back to the creation of poems.
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