I've been writing a lot lately. For me, the practice for both life and writing -- because we bring the same mindsets to bear on creation and living -- is to walk forward with a joyful expectancy of the unknown, to see what happens. A few things from my notebook...
*
Shots fired outside the Institute of Arts --
panic's animal understanding touched one
and then another and the crowd broke,
streaming along Farnsworth Avenue.
A crackling in the night, shouts, sirens,
and the whump, whump, whump
and the whump, whump, whump
of a distant police helicopter.
*
We love only the specific form
but long toward the place all beauty points --
the lines on your face...
*
I made a space for you in my arms,
small because you were small.
I have carried your absence ever since.
*
The life you took off like a jacket
forgotten on a chair-back
of some sidewalk cafe -- the loss
you didn't realize until one day
you went looking for it.
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