This is such an interesting process. Today I was very aware of getting away from yesterday’s ‘need to be poetic’ pressure. What also rose up today, is my sense of my own resistance to this ‘writing by hand’ business which shows up in the sarcastic tone about the clichés of tranquil scenes. Interesting!
For a wilting quill — quiet will, trudging trudging on taking the steps, leaping up, lunging, planking — quiet strain and sweaty sweat I sweat, drip pale ink, smell of limp pits and a freshwater lake with ONE boat, a sunrise woodland, scented candles and circles, any circles, sunset on a tranquil sea with probably pan-pipes playing / oooing / aaahing / piping out my present. Come on — PLACID PEN / PLEASANT QUILL –I’ll walk you into the city, all bllurr *BLURR and bang. All the buildings stuck with post-it notes of extreme business busyness byingness. Busy city. Tranquility.
another kind of happiness 