Wednesday, July 25, 2012
Does Anyone Have a Net for Poetry?
The day starts out like this: grey, overcast sky piled on top of a city skyline that I can see in the distance. Concrete matches the sky. I sit in my car on my commute listening to a book on cd trying to resist the urge to veer off onto an exit and keep driving to the nearest coffee shop and re-group over a mocha hold the whipped cream. But it starts off really like this: big fat splashes on my umbrella rolling down and dripping onto my arms. I'm juggling my bag, my coffee cup, my umbrella and walking the block and a half to my work. Someone calls out good morning as they pass. I return the greeting but they are already on the crosswalk. Missed connections, slight natural disasters, the inescapable sense of lethargy creeping over me. A poem wells up inside of me while I'm at my desk and this time I sit quietly...I catch it and put it down on paper. I've learned that poems come to me now like butterflies or fish and its my job to wait quietly and patiently until my time comes. I'm a poem catcher.