I am locked into writing at night when the house is asleep. When I can work uninterrupted and reach the places I need to, in stillness and with concentrated effort. So I suffer some sleeplessness and my family suffers a little because I don’t function well before noon.
Overnight I managed to write three “wild” and yet clean poems—and by clean I mean sharply-polished. The titles are: OF A FEVERED CHILD, STRAWBERRIES IN WINTER and NUDE AT THE OPEN WINDOW. The third one’s title is a bit risqué but the poem is not. I am sorry to disappoint.
These poems hopefully take risks philosophically, linguistically, metaphorically— I considered them carefully and sent them to a fine (nameless) journal less than an hour ago…now it is a waiting game. If I get a positive response, I will certainly announce here.
(There are drawbacks to the speed at which one can transmit content through the Internet and I have rushed that process in the past—by sending words that were not ready, but tonight I weighed carefully my words and actions.)
I am taking healthier risks in my life—moving out of my comfort zone…more on those life changes later.