from the closet

Some of the poems have a shape, some don’t.

I chickened out and let other people read them. Immediately I felt this was a mistake. I wanted to take over and perform them, because I can perform them the way they should be performed. I’m surprised how strongly I feel that these poems are performance pieces. Hard admission for a shy person.

I feel more motivated to perform than to publish.

Maybe I need to live with one page at a time. It’s easy to skim over them without paying close attention when I’m editing the whole mess.

I have problems with plot and narrative anyway.

I still wish for a teacher. I accept that I’m not ready for a teacher.

I accept the task of learning to write by writing, learning to edit by editing, learning to perform by performing.

And my routine is changing so I don’t know where I’ll go from here.