Before and After Autumn

I use to write poetry all of the time.  Read dense work, analyze, read professional analyzes of said dense work, tag, underline, discuss said work just for fun.  I use to stay up all night, burning with need, painting, drawing, writing it ALL out, until spent I slept the day away.  I use to make work, wrap my mind in words, all day, all night long, even if it was only in my head.

Now I worry. I work.  I clean.  I cook.  I fold.  I wash.  I worry.  I watch the cleaning, the washing, the folding, the worrying deconstruct as fast as I can get it done.  Sometimes I feel like I’ve lost the words, the drive to read dense work, the brain cells gone to discuss said work just for fun.  My mind pulses one thing when I’m not busy fixing the world to make way for her: AUTUMN.  AUTUMN.  AUTUMN.

So, mostly instead of words, I take pictures.  Mostly of Autumn.  But also of other things.   Sometimes of words.  Maybe not so dense, but real.  Capturing something that it feels like I’ve lost, in another medium.  In another language.  In a form that only takes a tilt of head, a slant of light and a click of my finger.

I guess it will do for now.  Pulse: AUTUMN.

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One Response to “Before and After Autumn”

  1. It begins when you first see that heart beating inside of you on the screen. Then the motions scraping across your balloned belly. From the first cry you worrying “cover her up she is cold” Motherhood consumes you until you either die or lose your mind.

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