Julie and Clelia, from the Nerd, Converge
This is just plain, flat out weird and completely normal for
me.
I was lamenting yesterday, well, more accurate is whining, that I had not written a poem during the entire month of April which also happens to be National Poetry Month. This is not entirely true. I wrote several haiku and if I took out my notebook from my Berkshires jaunt and airport shuffle I would find some word-fruit ready to go through the juicer.
This morning, I remembered one of the books I set aside recently and then picked back up recently by a writer who was reminding us to try different forms, just for fun.
I decided to try what Priscilla Long calls a braid.
A poetic prosey braid of words.
Some of us are multitaskers, after all, and though I know the power of pure, clean focus, I also know there are certain items on my list of possibilities today that if I take on a task that fills more than one check mark, I’ll choose to do that.
Braid = writing practice + Character work (for the Nerd) + Blog Post = A moment of pure joy which is now available for your reading pleasure. First draft.
Ready? Go.
# # # # #
Tucked a bunch of her stuff in her purse. They are mine/hers for now, until she completely swallows each piece.
This was the tipping point. Cinderella running away from the ball and into the asylum. Rose in breast before disappearing.
Yellow. Charlotte. Activism. Wallpaper. Societal. Sleep Cure. Never. Pick. Pencil.
She is each of us, all of us, none of us. She needs her things as I need mine.
Golden Key was “the talking key”, I remember, before the twist of the heel in the calf, while face kissed dirt.
Myself. Seldom. ancestral . summer. Ordinary. Mere. Secure. John. Halls.
To remember we are here. To touch. Turn sting rays into velvet.
Another tipping point. The simple joy of buying nonsense at estate sales.
Why. Every. Creep. Fainted. Did. Path. Time. Across. Wall.
# # # # #
I feel more than a tinge of guilt for not really caring whether or not you enjoy this bit of self indulgent folly.
It actually feels like more to me and I suppose that is what counts: how I continue to walk along my particular process. I love you, dearly, yes.
I would honor your particular creative process too, yes.
Today I am playing and creating with words, images, curiosity and letting go.
What are you playing and creating with today?
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© 2013 by Julie Jordan Scott
