43. Archiving the Past


A damn pop song keeps filtering through my head. Throwing my concentration off from my Warm Room project. The song’s meter mangles the harmony, alternating the patterns I want to use, makes my words fall off key. Faltering.

Adding to my frustration: I cannot bend the poem to suit the intended second persona— his voice runs counter to my own: confident, angry, rebellious, defiant, yet respectful— once he feels it is earned— Everything I develop  for this new voice crumbles into further fractions without a sense of commonality, without relatable cohesion… the poem inches forward, when once it galloped…


every leaf has a shadow

under every leaf lies a greener shadow




burning bridges— https://davidglensmith.blogspot.com/


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