What I really get out of participating in Acadiana Wordlab is that we are writing raw and uncensored in a group—and that is uncomfortable. I am forced to write outside of my comfort zone and it is scary. We had such an amazing group yesterday. There were nine of us and I led the session. It was kind of a topsy-turvy set up, which I will not elaborate upon, but I was able to focus and we all got to writing. We had great synergy and energy.  It was a rewarding experience and the writing produced that was shared by the group was strong and interesting.  I thank Jonathan Penton for organizing this project. It’s really catching on and people are writing new because of it. That is success.

This poem-in-progress was written from a free-write produced at Acadiana Wordlab yesterday (3-2-13) I do not have a title for it.

Birds fly and drop around us
into trees dressed in smoke.

The air we breathe
is a blade in our lungs.

We run into the lake
to escape a burning death.

What have we lost on a blue
morning illuminated by fire?

We live for a time in the belly
of the sleeping lake.

We raise our children
to speak fish, to know

the name of the mountain
under our feet

worn to an indecipherable
multitude of pebbles.