Okay, I would like to say I'm super inspired, but not so much. However, I have been thinking about what it is I like about words. I like the action of typing on a computer, or writing notes, or just jotting down things, ideas. I even the other day looked in a really old journal of mine and noticed how my handwriting is the same and different from my handwriting now. I read some poems I must have written sometime back when I was in high school or maybe my freshman/sophomore years of college. Oh so long ago it now seems. Maybe this is a result of being forty, an age that when I was nineteen seemed terribly terribly old. But the thing about about language and words and expressing one's self is that they are all around us, just like air, we breathe them in and out all the time. It is so simple a process, once mastered, we read them, see them, talk them, they are around us all the time. Now of course I realize that not everyone has language just handed to them easily. For many people reading and writing is a excruciating labor, or something they've never had to master (living in a non-text based culture) and there are people who get along just fine doing as little with the printed page as possible. After all there are other languages/ways to communicate. My clients communicate with me all the time, even the non-verbal ones...but oh how much I really would like to get a better sense at times of their thoughts and feeling about things only to be hampered by the limitations of our communication process. Words are inexact things, but they are so much better than not having them. If I had to communicate only through visual means or body language, I would know some of the profound frustration that my clients deal with all the time. That they do so much with what they have makes me even more appreciative of what I have been blessed with. Anyway, I've been feeling my love of words and writing them so much more since I started this blog. I just wanted to share that with you all out there. Also, here's a poem I found last night looking through one of those old journal. I had forgotten I'd even written it, and in its own way I think its kind of good. So here it is a few words from my past.
The outside of the comp book is labeled 1986 Poetry and 1989.
count as you walk
the sky blue
smoke stacks gray
black lace wavers