It’s been a rough few weeks in this poet’s world. Serious health problems have lead to a conscious slow-down. And yet, accomplishments do roll in and I begin to feel like I’m just emerging into a different kind of poet.
Maybe I wont always be able to rock the mic late into the night, walk city streets to smokey bars to hear blues and words blend in the air, engage in philosophical rap sessions with feminist wordsmiths till dawn – maybe those are the adventures that live only in memory. That is the world of the younger poet; The healthy poet; The childless one with out obligations.
My body has forced me to use this time to embrace quiet and write. As illness weighs on my wallet, body and mind, I find that there is more time for this, and also more interest in leaving something behind. When I do leave here (not saying that this time is coming soon, but no one really does know) I hope to leave you with something. I hope my words continue to breath long after I stop.