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The Process
For me, poetry strikes like lightning. Fiction, on the other hand, is pure toil. Sometimes, it's the toil of really great sex. Sometimes it's more like playing solo tag with Dick Butkus wearing a Minnesota Vikings uniform and covered in hot dogs. Sometimes you just get Dick, you know?
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« drying in the sun |
Main
| valhalla »
tug of war
I was reaching out again
somewhere around the middle of my gut
thinking that I could call you
share the secrets and the joys
of a new year
but I reached out and caught only
the passing air of another day
the rope is slack
there's no one tugging back
I was thinking out loud again
somewhere in the middle of the day
and thinking in a reflex that you'd love
to hear about the new job, new life
anything
but I caught myself in the middle of a thought
like you catch yourself from falling
the rope is slack
there's no one tugging back
I was crying on the bus again
as these words started forming in my head
you can't play tug-of-war
or jump rope
without someone on the other end
Posted by rowan at April 16, 2004 04:38 PM
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