Saturday, June 27, 2015

Sweet Potato Pie and I Shut My Mouth

Today I held 87 poems in my hand -- hot off the press -- I held 87 of my own poems in my own hand and had the incredible urge to cry.

I haven't had much experience with pride but today is the day I french kiss self-satisfaction. I might even get to third base. I held my poems in my hand. They aren't all great, most of them aren't even good, but they are mine. Each little word and line break hatched from intention. Each stanza a pick ax for mining my emotion with craft. Each a micro-universe. Each one breathing. And it's me, I'm the creator.

I can't stop touching the pages.

Today is pulsing.

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