On Form

Write From...

Write From…

Ignore what people say.

Don’t try to write

from cut-out inner places like the heart.

Exposed,

it dries within a dozen beats;

your heart’s a messy organ, in the end.

To spare us all the sight of bitter blood -

of which, I’m sure, we have enough ourselves -

try writing from the lungs.

Inspire and draw

each breath upon the page as you exhale;

the kiss of life.

Reanimate your words

amid a brainstorm, as the lightning strikes.

Now write from whitened knuckles, hold your pen

as you would grip a rollercoaster bar.

Enjoy the ride, the heightened senses felt,

the roaring, rushing thrill of fresh intent

that somehow clings, electric, to your hand.

The charge is laid. Now, blow your writing up.

Each giant shard, each tiny fragment counts.

Escape awhile.

Try writing from the feet:

seek out forgotten corners of the world,

horizons ever broadening ahead,

and, when you tire of travel, welcome home.

Now write from all the wrinkles ’round your eyes,

the aching in your knees,

your breaking back,

your calloused palms and ever-thinning hair.

Perhaps if, after all this time, you still

find heartache or nostalgia come to call,

the heart’s the place to write from after all.