Sunday, April 17, 2011

hot jello

sometimes when i write a poem, i tremble inside. because it is so honest. so much where i'm at. it's frightening to be so honest when the response will be unknown. it's a bit like jello before it's set. very liquid, not much of a solid. but you can't float shit in jello without the hot liquid stage. i'm sure there is some technical term for this.

right now i'm steaming hot jello and i need some time to cool. but what i do is i go back to the poem, i read it aloud to a friend. send it to my faithful poets, and see if i would do the same thing again. generally, i would. even if it were to be the end of something, a relationship. a job. whatever, it is not without me stating my ultimate truth. from that place alone do i advance.

so, i did it again, spilled it all out there, splayed my chest and revealed myself.

and sometimes, it's a bit scary, but not a boogie man scary, just a vulnerable, i must do this kind of scary. like a hermit crab venturing out for a new shell. he's outgrown the last one, has to find a new one. it must be.

i outgrow a lot of shells. that's all i'm saying.

but it is the way of hermit crabs. they don't finally move into one for good. they have to keep looking, it's who they are.

it's who i am.

so i've shuffed off another poem.

and i'm looking to settle into the next. until then, i'm defenseless. but i have learned how to live this way. it is essential to my work. the poems present themselves, even unformed, and i crawl in and live a while with them. get to know them. until they tell me who they are.

and for a while, it feels like home.

and i am safe.

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