“…There was a big high wall there that tried to stop me
Sign was painted, it said private property
But on the back side it didn’t say nothing
This land was made for you and me…”
I drift between wakefulness and sleep from around 3 to 4 am until about 5:30 – I fall back to sleep until 6, when my alarm goes off. It’s better when I surrender – maybe take a cool shower and then, drift in and out of sleep, thinking of dreams,
and noticing.
“Creativity ignited a spark. In that moment, I saw that art is not peripheral, beauty is not optional, but a strategy for survival.” – Terry Tempest Williams
I walked away a long time ago so that I could find out who I am.
Frederica Hall, a local artist, created this drawing, I love her play with color. She said she felt like I was in a cosmic egg. I’m curious to see how she will finish.
We moved to a small room in an annex to the Poetry Project at St. Mark’s Church. Nada Gordon was teaching – I think we were free-writing, getting warmed up.
My marriage was a disaster and I did’t necessarily feel like feeling anything – so I focused on the room and the sounds and the imagery and the energy of nervous writers filling the space. I put a lot of pressure on writing to take the place of music.