Wednesday, January 6, 2010


First day back, stacks of paper sticking out of 3 subject notebooks.
Watching the snow fall like dust while trying to write poetry on crinkled paper.
A swipe of the thumb, hastily stuffing the words out of sight, the pencil marks smear.

5 minutes later and the white paper is the color of dingy light bulbs about to burn out, now spattered with soggy dots of melting snowflakes.

Question marks.

How long can you stare at a page? How long will it take for the answer to crawl out? Where is the answer? How long is a minute, an hour, a second? The space in between hello and goodbye? Does it matter? Can you tell the difference when you're walking out the door, blinking blindly, feeling like you can't figure out where you're going and you have to keep walking because if you don't, you'll never end up anywhere?
-written by me on January 5th, 2010-


  1. This is a really evocative post. I'm writing a novel at the moment and can really sympathise with this feeling. If your posts are anything to go by your poetry must be fantastic!

  2. so many times--almost all the time--I read one of your posts and the only response I can think of is: me too.

  3. Beautiful,
    it'll come to you, when you least expect it <3

  4. I love how you can describe emotions that I've been having but have never been able to explain.

  5. I would say a couple things, but they've already pretty much been said - so I'll just say that I love this :)


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