I will try.
I can already feel my mind shifting into a different mode, the mode for finding the gesture that might become a poem. I asked myself today, why have I not made a way into this mind for so long?
This may be a mystery for another day. Maybe I'll get to it after I hang up my clothes. Again.
But for now, poem 2. Rough but ready.
I hear you, sister. That is the other story for my stretch of silence. Too much blabbing (in my case) or even wit (which would be you) takes away the quiet from which real words comes?
ReplyDeleteor come - depending on how grammatical you feel.
ReplyDeleteSuch a picture you created in my mind.
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