Wednesday

no words

at least a dozen poems are rattlin around in my mind and i cannot write. aggravated by the fact that usually all i can do is write. however i never memorize a word. then step up on stage with my sheet safety blanket and read. lawd have mercy on me. que pasa?! i'm writing silly love poems and posting videos and not really writing. not really really writing those words that will put me way out on a limb with my heart on my sleeve and exposing it all full frontal. 'go bare' he said. i shudder. my head hurts and i cannot write. perhaps i misplaced my voice somewhere... i will retrace my steps. maybe i left it on the subway or in the streetcar with one glove or a scarf. i disperse my words among notbooks and laptop files and slips of paper and more notebooks and then feel 'a ways' wishing i could scoop them all together into one heap and sift through the whole collection as though that would give me a sense of cohesion, or completion or contentment. self-sabotage maybe? likely.

for i am at a loss. my frontal lobe throbs and i cannot write. i have a list of potential poems and i put my pen to paper and ... and ... and ...

how bloody anti-climactic. i just want to get them out. ejaculate. maybe then my brain will stop buzzing. i mean, what is sanity, really? and how sane should a writer be exactly? and if i plan to step on a stage, do i really need to just memorize one, two or three? or all? or what? i'm suffering from severe inadequacy. even though the response is almost always 'you are lovely' -

that is not the problem. the problem is with me. i just can't seem to articulate the damn thing. for a writer - that could be the end of me.

could it? really? will this pass? what will become of me (without words?)

1 comment:

nehal said...

was thinking about you today. looking forward to re-grouping with you when you're back. your mental state's intriguing, coffee chez moi?