Yesterday I worked a bit on a rantpoem I have been mulling over in my head, and I must say: I have forgotten how to write. Not in a can't sign my checks type of way - although that might be more helpful - but in a I have the words inside my head and yet nothing I commit to page looks intelligible.
Maybe I am putting too much emphasis on intelligible?
Seriously, I remember twenty years or so ago I used to flow poetry from my very veins, and it was painful not to write. Now I am dried up, a husk of an ambition, and it basically just sucks.
Where is my voice?
And what is stultifying me into silence?
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I have committed myself to a project this summer: working through Writing Down the Bones again. I am also holding my other long-ago bible, Bird by Bird, as well as a place to find a way to communicate again.
Maybe some of my exercises will make it here.
Stay tuned.
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