One of the reasons I started this blog was to try to break my cycle of writing something, rewriting it, sitting on it for years and decades, then… more often than not… just tossing it away. Over the years I have written one complete novel, one almost complete novel, parts of several mystery novels, many short stories of various genres, and, of course, scores and scores of poems. Most have followed the same course and ended up eventually thrown away before seeing the light of day.
Now I experiment with “posting” these transitory ramblings. Something so far out of my comfort zone that I cannot help but believe that it must be good for me. Discomfort awakens our senses… extreme discomfort can awaken our souls.
Today a poem about the books that are piled about my house and life.
The poem that once
appeared in this space
is being re-drafted
It will be re-posted