The Flow
Prose poem inspired by my muse and a 17-minute walk at 2 a.m. under the stars
09.22.23 Note:
I just read a beautiful Benighted creation, Artificial Lights, Real Feelings
A poem on the intersection of reality and wishful thinking, which if you have not read, I hope you will. Their poem notes said, “Some things just happen the way they are supposed to happen, no matter how much we try to influence the outcome….Don’t try to force things,” which reminded me of this prose poem I published in December 2020.
Where shall I start? This morning? Last night? Does it matter? Does the structure of the poem about living without routine require a beginning and an end?
I didn’t know what it was about when first I was in my idea, pace, think, pace more mode, but then again, inside of course knew
I woke a little after 00:00, very groggy, no, dissociatively foggy as is my norm these days both as I nod off and as I wake, then it’s sixteen after one when I decide to put feet on the floor
shall I break the haze with some HIIT as has smacked so well — Nah, I feel like a walk
I turn north out the door, it’s quite dark, perhaps my friends are behind clouds, but then my eyes adjust and a warm smile engulfs my face as I begin…
