Tag: Freewriting

FREEWRITING EXERCISE #85

Arms take to music, each limb a swaying branch, my room anopera’s booth; music streams softly down the mountains of my shoulders. I am perpetual in rehearsal, drinking in the introductory steps to how I canbe art, which is to say. how I can obfuscate which I am to say.I imagine the artist’s mind like […]

FREEWRITING EXERCISE #84

Always defined by what we lack, the donut made wholewith its hole. I am not true;I have not been to anyoneit seems. In me, a lack of concrete. Of grounding. Acloset full of masks – or are they all the same face?I have grown too weary to try each one in the mirror.So I find […]

FREEWRITING EXERCISE #83

I have been careful recently / walkingabout with my pockets full / of various words and phrases I saved / for the daywhen you make your way / back into our house of joined hands / an arm can itself be an envelope / collapsing lovers into mirror-pools / looking formuch better mail routes / […]

FREEWRITING EXERCISE #82

Always a catch before the deluge,a notch high in the throat. Always another head popping up at the shooting gallery, another round nestled in the barrel. There is somepredictability to this life, and only a few likely ways for us to die. Mypoetry no longer surprises me, soI stopped calling it poetry and letit take […]

FREEWRITING EXERCISE #81

I wanted more to do with this patch of dirt, this sad unsquaredanced bald spot, where no grass grows and where the spotlight shadow of the neighbour’s fence stops shy of this stage. I wanted to planta tree, where I could have built a treehouse, because we know colonialisation comes in steps,and what better place […]

FREEWRITING EXERCISE #80

Perhaps the trick to this is not to come into the experience expecting to walk out of it somehow more clever, with better hair or a more slender body. After all everything’s a trick of the mind, really, even the arbitrary flip-flop coin-flip box-office-crashing rotten-tomatoes-smashing nature of good and bad, because what’s really good at […]

FREEWRITING EXERCISE #79

In this version, I am sitting quiet in the forest behind my house, my path back having long been coveredwith snow. The trees are quiet brushes in anotherman’s bathroom, the lake the frosted-over mirror. My hands are heavy with the weight of longing, andso cold from the wintry air. It was not the best idea […]