I’ve written some truly scathing and unquestionably bitter screams about politics and religion. This week alone saw me writing several wannabe blog posts and then, sensibly, putting them aside. Or perhaps not so sensibly, as sometimes a vent is just what I and others need, or else our inner volcanoes go all Krakatoa.
Sometimes just writing down those poisonous notions, then not sharing them with anyone, can be counted as actual productive writing time if I lie a lot. I might blend a few wannabe blog posts into some sort of truly razor-blade studded super-post, and not post that, either.
I find I need to rip some band aids off and let the bridges burn as they wish.
I’ve been a Cautious Cathy. Caution is fine, in Los Angeles, on the 405 South heading into Friday rush hour traffic, pretty shitty when you’re an ‘artist’ who allegedly is a truth-telling dynamo. As I’ve actually had to drive in Los Angeles rush hour traffic–OH MY FREAKING GOD YES IT REALLY IS THAT BAD THERE– it would behoove me to grit my teeth and creep forward with words as well.
Ah, so. It’s July. I once again sent off a little trembling, dew-drenched set of words for a poetry challenge, as I do, just to keep beating myself up and to make sure those rejections pile up. So I, like Sylvia Plath, can admire my rejections as proof that I’ve done something. I wrote quite a few little blips, then decided on the following, because I…I just liked it.
DROPS OF THE SKY
I eat drops of the sky like candy
made in the ovens of
That road before me
leads me to saviors
made of stones and
saviors who will offer me
a star-scarred night;
a careless gift
like a broken porcelain cup
full of dandelion wine.
Now!! Go outside and then come back in again. Go be indifferent to someone you don’t know. Eat something familiar. Cheers!