Lately I spend a lot of time asking myself, “How can I write, when ______?” There is ALWAYS something, always x, y, or z curdling my guts, dividing my brain, taking my time. I am pulling on the reins and curbing my tongue. I am moving, I am packing, I am overloaded, I am stressed. I am also refusing to allow myself to be snotty, snappish, nobby, lazy, lax, or indolent. Believe me, it’s a full-time job.
This Is Reality
ONLY when juicy
prose rolls do leaf-blowers come.
(darned sapless foliage)
Better Answer That
*doorbell* Oh, who now!?
Virtues: Patience, Kindness, Peace.
Sanity returns.
And Stop Whining
Dear Wisher, Writers
Write. Are you a dreamer, or
Selling Magic Beans?
And finally, this is for the mower who even now is MOWING UP my precious lawn daisies! Oh, the humanity! Or something like that:
My Daisies!
The growl of diesel
Confetti colors scatter —
A farewell to lawns.
Yes yes yes to all of these. I’m sure you’re much better at reining in and curbing your tongue than I am. And didn’t you just move into your new place with the view of the sheep? Seems like you just unpacked all those boxes.
Love the Silverstein flavored haiku; reminds me of the cross stitch that hangs by my door:
“If you are a dreamer,come in.
If you are a dreamer,
a wisher, a liar, a hoper, a prayer,
a magic-bean-buyer.
If you’re a pretender,
come sit by my fire,
for we have some flax-golden tales to spin.
Come in! Come in!”