writing is hard
and it gets harder
and you will want to
more and more
in your flattest
coldest moments
mostly at night
the baby will be crying
the bills will be towering
the man will be gone
the dark will be gaping
and there will be no sleep
no respite in dreaming
no hot fuck
to melt the
bitter fear
just words
hissing
skittering through
the clutter
of your mind
their spiny
minuscule
legs pricking
dragging sacs
of tiny nascent
notions
the spawn of
more pestering
poems
they will scatter
when the sunlight hits
duck from the
merciless tread
of functional
thought
they will
feel unreal
writing is hard
and words are wily
the trick becomes
luring them
with your sweet
your salt your savory
voice
drawing them
into a
harmonious
swarm
in the shape
of a your
outsized
heart
©Michelle R. Smith 2008
3 comments:
Love this. This seems to capture my dysfunctional relationship with words... :-)
at it again I see. Your writing appeals to me, not because of all the hokey poetry'esk reasons, but for instance, you lay the words right out. You don't hide behind a lot of intangible metaphores. You have an artistic way of just saying it, and I really think that is dope.
well, thank you. i do value simplicity. it's the quality in neruda's and plath's work that i appreciate and--ancient chinese secret--try to duplicate. sometimes i think it's harder to be economical, to create meaning with a few words, than to throw a whole bunch of words at something and leave it to the reader to wade through them to find your meaning. i do that work for them (at least in my mind).
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