Words spew from my pen or pressurise my google doc. I woke with new pathways to
the brain like a new path to the waterfall.
Felt great to be In Raymond Carvers
Shadow, at one with the written word.
As if Lao Tzu were with me on an effortless effort, wabi-sabi is everywhere in my imperfection flow, the art of doing nothing. Locked in the backwards law (When you give up you float) Alan watts the man, as if these words were in control again.
Twenty years in hell-cell but I would not change a thing. I have been very lucky
I lived three lives and ended up what
I love to do creative writing, give to get.
having no regret, I wish Basho we're here
to feel this. This is how he must have felt elated moon gazing, awake.
At long last twenty years, blackhole poetry, This feels like the start of something new
A creative writing tutor again. Who has come out of the dark?
Thinking what would Carver do
To fit it in a form he would leave
It well alone to carve its own way
In stone that's just how it flowed.
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