I noticed I go through writing cycles.
For months I won't write a line of poetry, though I spend all my time scribbling away at my book.
and then, one day, I wake up, and can't write the last thirty pages of my book, because all I have a mind for is verse.
That circle has begun to repeat itself.
I am back into poetry phase.
NO, MY BOOK. I need to finish it, but I don't want to right now.
Yesterday I wrote a poem for Shakespeare as I walked across campus.
It is a haiku:
your poems are dumb
your plays are super boring
I hate you, William
these are the kind of gems I provide when I am in poetry mode.
among others.
also, I received no less than SEVEN (yes, seven) books of poetry for my birthday.
Thank you, friends.
2 comments:
I'm returning your present.
Oh gosh, I love Mary!
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