Wednesday, December 17, 2014

The things you write in the dark, after drinking two margaritas

I get tangled in what
I want to say

Her poems were too
much like
the hair
left in a brush

The switch from first to third:
a writer's oldest trick


I want to write boldly, 
like the earthquake
and not
the seismograph 

I want to rattle
the cage,
Explode from 
the branch

I want to be the hair
coursing down the long
switch of her back

The fever,

before a sweeter 

God, let me write
and not be constricted
by the what 
and even less
by any whom

Let me smash that dam
into atoms,
recycle it into

Let me break myself, 
in perpetuity,
and free the awful flow

and carry it forward 
until I can't

and kiss the end

of the road


Vesper said...

A writer's prayer... I can feel it, Sarah. And probably two margaritas would achieve most of it for me... :-)

Charles Gramlich said...

Write like the earthquake and not the seismograph. Absolutely! Love that.

Sarah Hina said...

Vesper, two margaritas lets me achieve just about anything. Or lets me think I can, at any rate. :)

Charles, yeah, I'd rather do the shaking than measure the shakes. Thanks!

Catherine Vibert said...

Amen to that, sister. To more of that freedom in 2015! Merry Christmas Sarah!

m kromd said...

Hi, I found your blog from Nathan Bransford's. Your work is fabulous. Happy holidays - mkromd

Sarah Hina said...

Cat, sorry I'm late with this. I hope you had a wonderful Christmas and that you'll know great happiness in the new year!

M, thank you so much for stopping by. I appreciate the kind words.

Aniket Thakkar said...

But you always were a leaf on the wind!

You just occasionally need two smacks on the head by good ol' me.

Sarah Hina said...

Aniket, I count on that. Both sides, please.