I’ve been poetizing at the beach. There’s something about sun and sand and waves that touches the skin and makes the soul happier. The ocean has been too cold for swimming, but perfectly hot for poetry and wild dreams made of want and ink (and magnets *cough*).
This wee jar carries magnetized words
from Poe and Freud—
dark fun with psychology in it *giggles*.
I emptied the jar in my hat,
touched the words…
and let them touch me back.
The words aligned themselves into a poem bit:
“Without your storm, my strange is lost.”
I know, my sweet darlings! I thought at them.
At some point, I lost the word “lost”,
and then found it lounging with another treasure.
Birds of a feather, I tell you.
After poetizing, I leaned back, welcomed the kiss of the sun,
got drunk in Nature’s warmth,
conjured some of my favorite words to mind…
and the rest was bliss,
word-bliss waiting to be inked into poetry.
a wee note…
– To those of you who have asked about the part of New York I’m currently in, well… I’m not. I have been dancing around the San Juan Islands, kissing words right on the mouth, twirling under sun and moon, rejoicing in Nature’s treasures, delighting in the gift of being me. When I get home, I’ll write a yummy post about the trip.