Past Work Doesn't Matter

"The only thing that interests me is what I'm going to write tomorrow night."

--

It's also nice to hear that other people begin to feel sick if they go more than two days without writing something.

I've been on a good kick for the past couple weeks. I've been able to write every day. I don't care if it's one sentence, one phrase, or just one word. It's always the right sentence, phrase, or word.

 Because I'm lucky enough to find creativity every day, the dark days have been few and far between.

Enough for now. Here's a new poem.

______________________________
List poem are cliché

I love this shit.

I love this poetry and prose shit.

I love the way that my brain says “stop what your doing and put this down on paper because it’s time to make love without having to wax your carrot.”

I love it when the poetry is simple and you don’t need a dictionary.

I love when the booze mixes with hot august weather,
and it’s raining outside,
and I can just sit in my underwear and let the beads of sweat roll down towards the page.

I love the smell of just-before-the-rain moonlight.
I love the smell of old books.
I love the smell of oil on typewriter keys,
and licking my envelopes shut.

I love the minute of silence I get after the poem is down--
before the world crawls back in--
and my brain
and heart
and balls
become separate entities once again.

I love being broke.

And I love when the words don’t come
and I just sit there
and listen to my own heartbeat.

I love how people don’t take the most important thing seriously anymore

I love it even more because a brilliant man--
before he killed himself--
said that words and verse
can and will save this world.

I love him for saying that.

I love writing.
Editing.
Rewriting.
Editing.
Rewriting.
Editing.
Rewriting.
Editing.
Rewriting.
Final read.
Submission.
Rejection.
Submission.
Rejection.
Submission.
Rejection.
Submission.
Rejection.
Submission.

Acceptance.

Because it evokes a fire in me.

It is poetry
that helps me cope
with this mortal coil
that I have been given--
not by choice--
and not by creator,
but by personal genius.

I love this shit.
_________________________

I love you.

~Torres