Poetry In Progress

I had just finished making a list of what I was going to do for the day.
Stanley had even approved it.

Then I got ready to go wash the car.

Wait, Word Raccoon said.
If it’s warm enough to wash the car, does that mean you’ll be warm if you go to that café, too? (I get so cold sometimes.)

So we abandoned all plans, grabbed just our laptop case, not even our backpack or our purse, and ran to wash the car.

Why is there always a line of damn cones in front of our favorite one?
Is it perpetually broken?

We found one that was open.

After that, we went to the café.

I let them make breakfast.

I entered the place without specific writing expectations, but it was the perfect atmosphere for the day.

People to have brief conversations with.

I even had one conversation about poetry, which was nice.
I still have not fully embraced being seen as a poet.
I’m trying.

No AirPods needed.
Unobtrusive music playing.
Murmurs all around.

Soothing.

I wasn’t sure what I wanted to work on, so Word Raccoon took charge.

First she checked how many poems were in the “In Progress” folder.

Almost 400.

Poetry purgatory.

I chose five at random and began revising them one by one.

Then I noticed a pattern.

Some of them belonged together.

I opened five more.

Eventually I discovered that there was a chapbook hiding there, made of poems I thought weren’t finished because I didn’t know what they meant.

Am I the only one who writes things, says I have no idea what I just wrote, and means it?

Word Raccoon danced in her chair.

“Ooh, ooh, I have a title for this collection.
Drinking Rainwater from the Inverted Bell Jar“

I’m circling it.
It’s close.

Then I identified another theme and title, though I only have a couple of poems in that one so far:

language after impact

I’m not sure why it’s all lowercase.
It just wants to be for now.

I’m sure there are plenty of poems in that folder that do need revising.

Still, it was nice to find some that didn’t.

And who knows, maybe other poems are already in conversation too.

P.S. Today is my departed father’s birthday.
I’m eating M&M’s.