I got sucked into JoAnn Fabrics today: Simplicity patterns on sale for $1.99. I bought four. Let me sew or make paper crafts, and I will enjoy myself. But sit me down to write, and my mind slackens, my body tightens. One of the most difficult parts of my day are these small words and the poems and essays I write.
But still when I consider abandoning my giving of this small offering—a ragged pittance, a grappling at beauty—it is a thing I cannot do. However poor, however offensive to the trained eye, I must keep writing, if I am to know that I am alive.
Words for me are as needed as breath and as difficult as viewing the new moon.