i dyed my hair today- my long-loved soft black. now that my hair has grown longer and the curls have gotten smoother, i am happy to take care of it again. i am currently wrapped up tight in two towels, fresh from the shower. legs clean-shaven and lotioned too. next, comes my new black dress and i suppose i'll have to hunt down my lavender studs. i think i remember seeing them somewhere in the bookcase. i leave my parts everywhere. :)
this morning, i wrote a new poem while my sweetheart woke himself in the shower. i've revised some of the older ones as well and am feeling happy with where they are going. i am feeling light and poetic today. maybe it's the hair dye. maybe the lack of sleep. but there's a familiar cast to the light today that reminds me of when we first arrived here in our little cottage... i feel the way i did in summer, on a good day, when i'd fill pages and pages, breezing through a composition book in 15 days tops, jobless but not all that worried about it, crocheting flowers and reading Anne Sexton and turning out poems at an Ariel pace. then, it didn't matter if they were any good or not- the quantity had to get out. i was beyond caring about academic quality, the ink had to fly and spatter wherever it wanted. it was my job to let it. it was all i could do and it felt honest. a different tongue took over my mouth and it was merely a technicality that it was my hand doing the scribbling.
sometimes a poem is very much like a photograph- it's hard to take credit for it turning out well.
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