pressure

sometimes i get this feeling like i may never write another poem. i don't spend time contemplating that thought because it will freak me out. but i do acknowledge its presence and move on.

when picasso was asked which was his favorite painting, he said,

my next one.

that is the artist's sentiment exactly. i do adore what has come, but i eagerly await the next poem and the next poem. and the next. when time passes with nothing, it gets one to thinking the muse has finally packed her shit up and moved on for good.

it has been nearly a week since i've written any poems. i don't share them with but a handful of souls anymore, though i will read them to friends over the phone. they are too intimate for me to disseminate, and this is my cocooning. i realized this weekend as i called on friends who were not home that life does not wait. friends do not stand at the ready for such calls to come, nor can they be expected to. we all have lives. mine no more important than (or interesting, can i get an amen?) yours.

so i dwelt in my cocoon alone, wondering when poems, friends, whatevers would come again and bless me with their presence. and today, a rush came. words that are too honest for me to share with all but my inner circles.

i've been meaning to speak about pressure for some time now. last time the opportunity came up, i was too sad to do so. and so, remained silent.

the necessary pressure of an artist's life is, i have come to believe, essential. if i am not forced to create. if i do not build in some pressure situations, then i can just coast and set no deadlines for moving forward.

but if i've got an open mic coming up, and a roundtable to host, neither of which i will read works at repeatedly, i've got to write some new stuff. and so i do. the pressure demands i have built in to my life require me to produce.

these pressures can stifle, i'm sure. so my demands are more guidelines than rules. but they are there and i like to walk in to a room full of strangers and read something new.

my week begins afresh and i've got to make time for my artistic endeavors, whatever they may be, however small they may be, to nurture my creative child. she has been good to me, i must be good to her. and so i shall.

but let me not neglect the pressure that keeps me hopping to the next creative stone. i won't look for a place to land if i get too comfortable, this pressure ensures i do not.