This post was formatted to reflect an original journal entry. 11/10/18 I’ve been working through a creative phase. Poetry. Always comes in spates, or surges. Then I rest. Return to Maslow, Rogers. Though, I find myself currently alternating between this post and another shapely piece of poetry. Spent the day in the kitchen. A long, [...]
Tag: creative
Wild Thing
There’s something taking shape beneath the night’s long hair I wish I wasn’t there to see it crowns resting on the heads of all the devils two hips and a sewn up corset a valley like an open cage, a mouth with no eyes, and the lips of a wild thing curled to the toes [...]
Lo Buzz
This post is formatted to reflect an original journal entry. 11/1/18 I am convinced I do most of my best thinking in my sleep. Is this a terribly peculiar thing to say? I’ve gotten in the habit of keeping my notebook and pencil on the nightstand, within grabbing distance for bouts of 3 a.m. inspiration. [...]
Footwork
This post has been formatted to reflect an original journal entry. 10/26/18 A cool, rainy afternoon and the end of a busy week. The highlight: seeing Lindsey Buckingham live in concert. I don’t believe I’ve mentioned previously that Fleetwood Mac is my all-time favorite band. Or how over the moon I was (and I was [...]
First Recording
This post is formatted to reflect an original journal entry. 9/26/18 It is a peculiar experience, the realization that you are fully and holistically engaged--investing the greater part of your time, energy, and potential--in rediscovering old truths. But, I said that! But, I KNEW THAT! The initial flare of indignation as I learn that all [...]
Rear View
It was a dirty buzz the bop of the street sign jack knife engine rapping on a dashboard heady windows and no exit summertime south Fresh from a coffee shop on Tryon a writer’s clackety-clatch the metaphor of metaphors It was sunset Sunday and we were looking through the legs of the world Poetry, macaroons, [...]
Late Night Jazz
This post is formatted to reflect an original journal entry. 9/15/18 The day's been dark and peaceful. An hour and a half of yoga. Soft jazz. Writing longhand in my notebook while rain pelts the windows and long gusts of wind rumble through the trees. It's almost time for chamomile tea and a cat in [...]
