from the archives :: a pleasure to return to notes

[a post from a blog now defunct]

[originally written on december 21st, 2019]

i love writing lines more than i love writing poems right now,

even though poems are made up of lines, & you'd think i could just put line after line,
but the lines, they want to be together in particular ways, they change each other's hearts
so they can pulse together

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& it's a pleasure: to return to notes
writing notes
note taking
which feels more giving to me, at the moment

note giving
breath giving
note breathing

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december

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year's end [a recent poem title btw]

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not having to think so hard about cohesion
not having to have things cohere
not having
just notes, in space
space: pockets: of air
notes, like ruins, in the december night

writing while not so focused, so zeroed in
so whittled, in a sense

writing while a little sleepy, yet still excited to relax a bit, relax into the writing that isn't in a form (let yourself think that!)

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december. 21st.
dec. twenty-first.
2 1 d e c
e m b e r

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1:03am

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what about one-line poems?
aphorisms? or not quite aphorisms but something looser
(loose baggy monster of the russian novel—in a single line!)

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some possible titles:
ode to holes
weep ode
lust song
lust elegy
love song with borrowed light
stolen lust
lust ballad
road to song