The picture and poem snippet to the left about sums up what I’m feeling about my writing today.
I feel my writing today is sharp, and clear, almost too easy.
It makes me afraid.
What about you? What are you doing today? Reading, writing, gardening, cooking, chores, caregiving? How does it make you feel?
To anyone interested, here’s the entire poem by Cummings:
voices to voices, lip to lip
i swear (to noone everyone) constitutes
undying; or whatever this and that petal confutes . . .
to exist being a peculiar form of sleep
what’s beyond logic happens beneath will;
– bring forth your flowers and machinery: sculpture and prose
(yet are we mindful, though not as yet awake,
i mean that the blond absence of any program
bring on your fireworks, which are a mixed
(While you and i have lips and voices which
each dream nascitur, is not made . . .)