truth is that it can be hard and lonely to show up at your desk and lick the dust off your life…the keyboard…the blank page.
the truth is sometimes your favorite pen is lost and the pages of your notebooks feel salty beneath your hands.
your mind feels too wild to say much. the world is too sleepy to offer much help.
the truth is you don’t want to work in fits and rhyme. you want to say it right without even trying. rarely does that happen. so instead you recall the old slips that told you not today. that’s what you want to say…to you your words, too.
your words mind you not. they beg to to tumble from your stomach and the warm beds on your skin.
because the truth is you all sit down. after all.
you will sit down and carve a feast on the page. no matter…how humble, disjointed and/or lame. you will find the spine. with softness in your eyes you will seek the space that was once empty but now full of your body and words and sigh.