Write Drunk Edit Sober
Alcohol, a friend in doses, can be fun in spades… lubricated moments, memories
Sometimes lost. Writing drunk, per Hemingway’s advice, proves useful in bypassing
The id. That self editing bastard! The ego and super such are more easily sated. Pleased with self of self.
Traveled ways across the pages of life, transcendent meanings not yet realized.
Drunken lucidity washing tables and chairs alike. Crashing bodies, stumbling faces…
Tripping on feet made wonky.
Travel back a year, I was on cloud nine. Long time crush….saw her reaching for a glass of red wine
She smiled alive and my insides went sky high. Possibilities, fears, desires… All churning inside.
Bring back to here, life moves and changes. Another, the other, their time was nigh… Burgeoning
Bosom, life inside. Joyous for her, his friend in love and nothing more. Attraction wavers and falls
Wayside ways, off the radar, maturity cures all. Life moves on.
Heart summons heart, to awaken and realize a pain
Choked down for survival’s sake, quietly crippling
Growth when whole. Awesomeness apparent, though shaded with
Survivalist bravado. Who to blame? No one but habit
Only. Courage made manifest in being though dampened with
Survival’s habit; over stretching bounds, covering repressed
Pain and loss, protecting self. Survival is done, life is achieved.
Time to grow; to meld the old with the new, a nobleness in truth.
Morning sunlight dances a cascading wonder across the surface
Determined vigor propels the craft toward, sweat beading like morning dew.
Weapon of choice stowed aft with bag of tricks, set to slay.
Hours pass, sunlight shining down is making pale skin turn brown.
Crank bait cast, turn the reel, bait wavering in water waiting for feel
Fish bites down, hook sinks in…