shorts

part of me want to stare off into a wall, through a wall, stare off into the space of it. I haven’t felt like writing much today, at least not poetry. I have something working and it’s short, something for submissions and the short ones are hard because even the ‘a’s’ matter. Everything within a line has to earn its right to exist in that line. When you only have 10 of them to work with, there’s no room for wasted images. But it’s not as easy as it sounds to make the images roll the way you feel them to. At some point the feeling you hold in your chest melds with the words you’ve been able to purge from your fingers, but it’s a tidal process. Backs and forths. Leaving and coming back. Lots of leaving right now. I know it’s there. I feel it tapping it’s feet at me to join the dance again. Today is so loud, I’m straining to hear the music.

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