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I am often writing, but my walk made me really feel like writing in a way I haven’t in some weeks.
It’s not that the sparrow or the Chevy will get into a poem. They probably won’t. I never manage to will anything into a poem. I’m not sure I can spend enough time, or enough consistent time, with a poem, to get anything done for another month or so. I just realized all over again how little brainspace I’ve given myself this year so far.
Again it’s not the writing part of writing. There’s always writing. But the writing part of writing is just blah blah blah unless you get something worked out about the living part of living. Some people think you have to have an exciting life to write excitingly. Maybe. Really, what you have to have is a life in which you stop thinking intentionally, and just think, unmaking the bed of your mind the while.
From Harriet the Blog at the Poetry Foundation