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                                              poessay V:

                                              writing
                                   as practice while
                                      writing

          I cannot always find
                      the Right Moment to write
          I cannot always find
                      the groove enough to breathe
          usually because I am not awareing
                      something within me
                      circulating as if blood of its own
                      while I am still chasing
                                   some dream of vindication

          just sitting has taught me so far
                      that it is difficult to just sit
                      because of the whole chapters
                      of backstory and echo
                      that stain the mind blind
                      of the most infant awareness of being
          and the practice of just sitting
                      is to antidote the stain
                      by saturating the awareness
                      through each and every chapter paragraph
                                   word letter and breath

          when stuck in writing –
                      pen poised stare off pick head
                      until I manually bring my pen
                                   back onto line –
          instead I should aware the vagueries as they occur
                      and widen my writing to include them
                      and thereby resolve them
                                   as I write …

                      there
          after the last ‘write’        (… no, no that would be too obvious …)
                      I spent a whole career
                      with the litany of hurt
                      in long scrolls of account
                                   so far away
                      from what I was writing
                      so intent on the vindication
                      that I didn’t see it build up
                      until it burst into the room
                      and took my ink away
          if I was alert I would have included it with wide metaphor
                      to become the point I was making
                      or rather widened the point
                      to include the true intent that I
                      hadn’t yet fully realised

          writing words in their succession
          is like being aware while sitting
                                   in that
          the words widen to include the vagueries as the awareness does too
          but neither the awareness nor the writing
                                   go with
                                   the vagueries
                      they just watch them

                      in both practices
          I need to let go the investment and desperation
          of my tin-pot identities and insistences
          and fling my arms wide to embrace them all
                      each and every one

 

 

 

————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–

acceptance & lifetimes wormhole: slipstream
awareness & breathing wormholes: on holiday
[writer’s] block & vindication wormholes: the writing’s / on the wall
identity wormhole: now
poessay wormhole: poessay IV
sitting wormhole: ‘I am a secret / superhero …’
time wormhole: Sunday
vindication & writing wormhole: the writing’s / on the wall

 

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