Steps, a Concrete Poem
A limp to the window to invite
in light. What if there are no steps
at all one day but wheels and more electric
help? What of it? I will roll if I can't dance on my
feet. I will always be moving and I will type out sonnets
and lyrics and stories and my dance will be an odd number of
fingers gliding over keys. I did something today, slowly I asked in light.
It's a prompt I skipped during "Poeming into the Now" and I didn't realize it was a "shape" or concrete poem until the third line break. In poem writing news, Alexis is starting up a new weekly writing group, 52 Poems, on the 14th. I'm really excited. Check out the details & sign up at her beautiful blog.
After the intensity of writing daily (I didn't post daily, because I needed to write some raw, personal stuff) I let it go for a few days after the official end of the course. Then yesterday I started to itch to make rhythmic words again.
Now, pain. Lying back down while rain drifts hissing into the hollow splashing the creek.
Now, quiet listening.