Resting The Writing Self
I am resting the writing self
on this crumpled paper,
thin smudges tucked
between blue horizons,
just another writer walking
and reading the world
almost nearly like a poem —
a turn of phrase
tucked deep into
another marginal mirage —
for thoughts are fleeting
and these feet, in a rush
to get where we’re going,
keep us moving forward
— a response poem to a friend in Kentucky, Terry, who wrote a poem to the query I found at a museum that asked: How is writing a poem like walking through a landscape on a trail?
6 thoughts on "Resting The Writing Self"
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in a world where
notebooks can be
closer then the
closest of friends.
nice work.
If you want to write poetry, you have to walk it! Thank you for bringing your sway and vibe to us all month.
You’ve captured something we can all relate to in this poem. I’ve enjoyed reading your posts this month.
I enjoyed this response poem, and getting to read your writing this lexpomo
Beautiful!
Perfect way to walk out of this month. I really love “resting the writing self / on this crumpled paper” — this is a lovely body poem.