I've been experiencing a lack of inspiration. My little notebooks have blank pages. This poem is reassuring at times like this.
inquiry
--ntozake shange
my questions concern the subject poetry
is whatever runs out/ whatever digs my guts
til there's no space in myself
cryin wont help/ callin mama wont help
lovers are detours/ no way to assuage this
poem/but in the words & they are deceitful/
images beat me confuse me/ make me want all of you to share me/
&i hide under my bed/
poetry is unavoidable connection/
some people get married/ others join the Church
i carry notebooks/ so i can tell us what happened/
midnight snacks in bed with whoever/ are no compensation/ when
i'm listenin to multitudes of voices/ i consume yr every word
move/
durin the day you are initiated into the holy order
of prospective poems/ i dream in yr voice/ sometimes act
yr fantasies/ i've made them my own/
whatever is here/ is what you've given me/
if it's not enough for you/
give me some more
2 comments:
Sorry, I'm dry as a bone myself at the moment. Except for the tamaracks.
Well, we've discussed and it seems like there is a plan afoot and so hopefully we'll get back on track :) All about the Fun and not about the FUNk... thank you very much.
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