Send

I want to reach out. I don’t have enough to say. Rather, I have a lot to say, but none of it is appropriate.

Soon, there are snippets of true things that are also okay to share. I wait to have more. I want there to be a small collection. It also needs to neaten up. Right now everything is shapeless.

Over days and weeks sifting takes place. Inappropriate content remains in my head. Normal stuff gets edited down to boring vs. interesting. It helps when new things happen outside of myself and my own making. It gives me some new material to work with.

More and more transpires that can go in the yes pile.

Things work their way into a clear narrative. The actual writing flows like water.

I hit send. If only I could see what happens next. The email coming into the inbox. The reading. Unfortunately all of it is in the cloud.

I rest in the well-worn space of suspended animation. Life pauses for a moment then resumes. One thing is certain. There’s nothing else to do but wait.


From the archives:
Take This Inspiration And Shove It
If You Care
The very second you lost me

Careful Words

The pause before speaking.
The silent blank pages slipped between dense, thatched prose.
The lull, the exclamation.  
To sate, not fill.
Even the endpapers.
Even the subject line.

You've worked the tinker right out of it.
The sweat wiped away by the same deft hands that penned.
That swept aloft to me alone, exclusive, dear.
To my eyes, the brain that soaks it in.
Smooth skin, blown glass.
Or as they say, like butter.