I’m an introvert, but maybe staying inside is starting to get to me? Or maybe I just have a very strange imagination…
And yes, I did just write a poem about not knowing what to write:
a poem by Lauren Hallstrom
I cannot write today;
the letters are rearranging themselves into their own made-up language…
In fact, they don’t want to be letters anymore—
they are marks that cannot be contained.
They are lifting up off of the page and
making names for themselves.
They are learning how to be both birds and airplanes,
both candlelight and electricity.
They are learning how to do what no one thought to cheer them on for.
a is doing her hair and standing up straighter.
Ellipsis is pulling herself together.
I cannot claim to know how they do it.
I am growing roots on my sofa
and observing what they create.
This kind of job needs no college degree.