Two days ago I wrote about the poet Walt Whitman. I’m in awe of how he could express beauty in so few words. I want to do that too.

Words now come into my head:

I don’t know how

It feels like that’s the wrong conversation. I don’t want to dive into a book called “How To Write Great Poetry”, or any other resource. I don’t want to consult experts from academia. Strangely, I don’t even want to talk to poets.

Well, well … it seems that I don’t know what I want. All right. I can live with that.

Do I need my poetry to be “good”? No. And I don’t even know what that means.

***

After a pause that refreshes, I’m back.

It feels simple, really. I want to express. Pick a venue, a medium … that might be me. I want the energy to flow from my heart and find its way into the air through the pores of my body, from my mouth, from my hands.

In my better moments, I don’t care what comes back. I want to go forward to. I want to love.

In the spirit of truth, however, I want to be loved while I love. But if that doesn’t happen, I will still love.

***

Oops. Love talk is so distracting. I’m pretty sure I was talking about writing poetry (which is love).

Tomorrow in this space I will write a poem. So there. There will be a new collection of words in the universe, one without punctuation, perhaps one without premeditated thought. I pray that at least one person out there in the WordPress and Facebook worlds will be touched. That will be enough.