Cushion yourself with flowers on days that don’t shine. Light candles. Burn oil, love letters, plans. Make your music soft and your pride shy. The world will hold together, and the poet must rest.
Stripped of your ego, the confines of this body, the self’s listless desires, habits and needs, what are you, really? The essence. The scent beneath the senses. The immaterial you, master of shape-shifting, lover of spaciousness and form. Can you give yourself a color? A material? Are you silky? Matted? Splintered? A quilt of painted… Continue reading Considerations of Self for Non-Fiction, Fiction, and Poetry