I didn’t listen to myself last night when I said, save one of those poems for tomorrow. Ah, I thought, I’ll have something new for then. I thought about the same things today - developments in the Middle East, what makes something poetry. I worked on revising my novel. I wondered about ways I might get the feedback I crave, the dialog I long for. I watched snow coming down.
I’m trying to post every day. What does it matter if no one even looks?
(I left the space white overnight, but then crept in to add the following:)
No need to fight too hard
against the white space
it’s not a tight space
it’s something unconfined
Consider it a wide place
a place where you might find grace
a landscape where you might trace
something divine
Try giving it a night chase
fast colors in a light race
you aren’t the only nut case
who’s so inclined
You might yet capture some trace
that maybe you can’t quite place
that leads you to your right place
your rescued mind.
©Wendy Mulhern
February 24, 2011
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