Jul 12, 2006

Fearsome writer's block this summer. The longest amount of time without a poem, I think, in my adult life. Hopefully the field remains fallow for some kind of singular crop. It is alarming, but a sense also of waiting, patience. What silence is for. Maybe it's Proust's fault, though I am reading poetry also. Things on the tip of my tongue. Perhaps soon. Perhaps not.

No comments: