who am i

to tell you otherwise when you are so convinced you know, contrary to what i see so clearly in you. that you are not, were not finished. it is not an issue now, as the words begin to trickle out and i rejoice, i rejoice. i rejoice.

it was daunting, the prospect of going it alone. such great creative endeavors ahead and i want my constant poetic companion beside me, in a sense, writing as well. it is selfish, i know. if someone says they are done, let them be done. but i knew it were not right. it was not finished. i am not finished. and our works feed and grow off of one another's. this may be a problem. i'm still typhoid mary in a sense, and i'm sorry about that. but your work seems untainted by my particular strain of delusion. and i'm grateful for that. it is what i've liked most about you. your ability to stand beside me and not succumb. like that tree we wanted for the cover of our collected works, it did not yield. it held its own through the deluge. and the deluge did come.

it continues to come.

sometimes i get these moments when there are no poems coming out, no poems stirring and i wonder if i've lost it, if i can be a poet anymore. if i am still a poet today, though i am not actively writing. but this is all doubt and silliness. my process is not to force a work. i know this in my head, but it is not my head that doubts, but rather, my heart.

traitor organ that it is, always betraying me the first chance it gets. i cannot control it, i cannot tame it, i have to simply let it be.

last night i was feeling a bit down so i put bells on my hips and ankles, i got up and danced, i forced that heart to pump fresh oxygen through my body, through my blood, i forced that heart to work and work hard. not to lament, not to be denied its class tonight, though denied it is--i got up and danced because i need to keep moving to keep dancing to keep becoming.

even when i'm lost. most especially when i'm lost.

i'm in the middle of the forest now, the heavy mist sets in and i'm uncertain of the way. i hear some faint echoes but they are beyond my grasp. i can't go back, i've lost the trail. i can't move forward because i've no idea where to go, so i lit a fire and danced. circled around it, bend back and forward laughing and dancing. if i'm not invited to the party, i will make a party where i'm at. that is my agenda now. have fun. it has been my agenda for a while, but i'd lost touch with it for a moment. i get so serious.

i'm trying to forget about the expectations and limitations of this season. to just live through today, and when tomorrow comes, live through that. it's not my inclination, i'm used to having to mastermind everything--that is what a mom does. what a wife does. and i'm far removed from both of those roles now.

it's a curious time. a birth canal experience, and i tried to abort my process, unwittingly, i don't know that anyone tries to abort process consciously. but i need to do what i used to do, time to engage in the poetic scene around here. time to be active and move forward.

i've got a list of books i'll have to read before my residency, and writing assignments to complete, that will help me burn some of this nothingness away.

but i don't want to fall into trance. to moving through a time in body, not in mind and spirit. i did that for too long. i'm whole again, at last. i need to make complete decisions. take chances. have fun.

and so i will.