mundane musing the twenty-sixth revisted

the process of poetry

two things:

one.  it is not without irony that i sit here thinking about writing;


on the simultaneous absurdity and gravity of everything literary

two.  last night, a story came to me while i sat in the darkness;

it was a fleeting idea

but one that sparked my curious nature.  i thought to myself

i should really get up and write this down before i forget

but just as quickly, the idea slipped

into the nether cobwebby reaches of my mind.

now it is lost

perhaps it will return someday

when i least expect it

and then i will greet it like a long-ago, once-met acquaintance.

but this time, i will have pen and paper in hand.

(written 31 march 2018)

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when writing, i am at my most preoccupied with the intricate workings of the world.

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