I wanted to share the process of a poem.
much of the time when I write poetry, I open the twitter app or a window on my desktop, and either start by writing a post, or a DM to myself, and then transcribe. sometimes I do it in a text editor. but many of my poems come to me when I’m in bed, and I have a tablet near the bed, and so that’s what I grab. and since twitter is my go-to mode of expression, that is the app I open.
(often, if a burst of inspiration appears when on the computer, it’s because I already have a twitter window open - and I just navigate to it automatically.)
and I wrote recently, in my journal, about this process. and then, because I’m insane, I posted an excerpt from my journal to my patreon for my ‘written revelations’ patrons. there’s only one at the moment, so it’s eminently safe to do so. and that’s it’s purpose, really. to reveal my longer form writing, but in a very safe container. because otherwise I may never do it. (am I doing it now? we shall see.)
in any case, this is that excerpt:
thinking about the ways in which my poetry has arrived to me. so often it is in a deluge. and other times it is deliberate. calculated. not the entire thing. but the theme, I suppose. or the pieces of it chosen and then they sort of come together in their own way.
I think I would like to write more poetry. but I'm not sure what makes it happen.
I think there's a way in which most of my poems are either about broken connection or perhaps longing or seeking. not very happy topics.
and writing love poetry is just so off brand for me.
I liked how this latest poem mentioned the footfalls filling with snow.
I would like to write about passion arising.
I think about the bomb song and that's what that is, really.
and my one patron at that level (who shall remain nameless because if I take the time to ask him if I have permission to share his quote, the result might be that I do not publish even this piece of writing) said to me:
“i will spend a good amount of time in the delight of witnessing your writing a poem about how poems happen.”
I do not know if I will ever write such a poem. but here I am attempting to write something about it.
and so, one night, as I lie in bed, this came to me:
it looks very much like many other poems I’ve written in the same manner.
and then, a few days later, I pulled it out, played with it, created an image, and posted the poem “seasonal fruit secrets” to this space.
(I’d love to post side by side comparison shots. but it’s long and so it wouldn’t work. suffice to say, you’ll have to navigate there yourself.)
in any case…
I sometimes would like to post only the original pure text, just as it is. and sometimes I do that, to twitter. raw. (it often gets little traction - which is interesting in its own right) but there’s something to be said about the act of making it into something else. how it allows a new processing of not only the original provocation (event) that inspired the poem, but then also to process the revelation of the expression itself in written form.
there’s simply a way in which reading the words becomes its own creative act. and then re-presenting them in new form another. and here. if I’m brave enough to post this piece, is yet another representation.
it’s like seeing water move, and how an outside force, like wind, or a swimming duck, or a frog mating, causes capillary waves to ripple beyond the event, changing not only the surface of the water, but everything that lies in its wake.
it’s expression. all the way down.
have a beautiful day. xoxo
-shannon