- I work at home, usually in the same spot, favorite chair.
Though with sometimes a bit of roaming around room
To room in and out of shadows and sunlight, the coffee
And CDs helping. I like to think of Montaigne’s comments
About hiding away from the world’s distractions in his
Tower to trigger the writing. Once I lived in France for
A year and a half or so, thought it would be cool to
Scribble poems on scratch paper in the bistros along
The Left Bank—it didn’t work. Too many marvels
Going on table by table!
2. A pen begins it, carries on awhile then to the keyboard
Or typewriter. 0f course, it’s the mysterious little inner
Pen that drives the wagon.)
. 3. No routine. It’s always something sudden, unexpected.
Once the spark comes it might go on for hours then dies
by its own rhythm.
- A long time. Still remember with a shudder more or less
trying at age 11 or 12 to write a novel. Got maybe three
or four pages and gave up. But when I began again some years
ago I started with short stories then to poetry.
- (oops my cranky laptop won’t let me keep the left margin)
Just anyone who’s interested in joining the journey,
Preferably those who are already reading poetry, whether
Critically or for more or less innocent enjoyment.
- I believe it’s the absolute love of writing, wanting/needing to
Immerse in imagery, rhythm, how lines break, etc.
Blocking out happens often. Once, I tried to defeat it by
An act of will so to speak. Have since learned to let go,
Disappear. It comes when it comes, goes where it goes.
- Roaming, reading, getting out to rediscover the great green
Earth before it turns to cinders, connect with fellow sojourners.
- Hard to exclude anything much. Two moments do stand out.
- First, when an idea or image or line from another writer
(thinking here often of Pessoa, Lorca, Neruda) strikes
home and I have to do something with it. Then, later on,
the moments when the poem seems finally rounding out
and I get the confidence that I can bring it in.
- In another life I taught writing workshops and giving advice
went with the ice cream—but I back away from that now,
would rather leave it to others who know much more than I.
Something like figure out if writing is your love, your passion
And if it is go for it full speed, meaning both through the
Garden times and the blocks! There may be wonders down
That rabbit hole.