since feeling is first
who pays any attention
to the syntax of things
will never wholly kiss you;
wholly to be a fool
while Spring is in the world
my blood approves,
and kisses are a better fate
than wisdom
lady i swear by all flowers. Don’t cry
—the best gesture of my brain is less than
your eyelids’ flutter which says
we are for each other: then
laugh, leaning back in my arms
for life’s not a paragraph
and death i think is no parenthesis
It’s called Writing II: Rhetorical Composing, this online course I’m taking. And it’s day One. I don’t know what could possibly come of a recipe that mixes anxiety with curiosity and worry and adds in a significant dollop of vulnerability. It looks like I’ll be writing a lot. Some of that writing might migrate over here, but I’m guessing this will be a kind of meta- blog for a while – a place where I can write about the writing I’m doing, what it feels like, what it’s doing (or seems to be doing) to my work, my processes, my psyche. Stay tuned. Or tune out, if this kind of angsty wonderment isn’t your thing.
At the end of the day, if this whole thing causes my head to explode (or more likely implode), I can always blame my friend the Very Doctor J. R. Daniel Kirk who turned me on to this whole Coursera thing in the first place. I’ll get him back one day… Maybe in that Kierkegaard class we’re considering in October…
rough, dream-littered nights
exploring relentless days
ambiguity
