Commute

Commute

bedraggled

in the drizzling rain

bone-chilled from an

icy wind that gave way

to an indescribable fog

she shivers

under a thin scarf

mobile in dense boots

against the brownish

gray of an idle town

                she transfers

toward a provisional

eternity

soaked in melancholy

as the bus pulls away

**

I did something. I submitted poems to an online journal today. I don’t know they’ll even consider me as they are based out of Brooklyn and I am Canadian but it was worth the risk, yes? I don’t know what prompted me to do it, I rarely submit my work these days, and yet I was compelled to compose a professionally worded cover letter, a light bio (which has little in the way of published details to speak of), four poems and blammo. Sent. Can’t take ‘em back now!

It was an impulse submission. I felt a little rush of adrenaline that I am sure will morph into a gentle sigh when they say thanks but no thanks. It’s the process though, right? Trusting it, trusting yourself and your words. If I’ve accomplished anything today, it’s those three things. They are important

Sharing a wee poem here now that seems appropriate for the duck-like weather we’re having today, well above zero temperatures in the middle of February. It’s almost like winter on the west coast! I’ll take it.

Happy Wednesday!

In propinquity,

Nic

Writer's Room

(the newest 'rock wall' instillation - in progress)

I have a space.  A writing space.  And while it is currently without a working computer for all of my creative pursuits, it is my space.  My writing space is littered with things.  With books, music, photos, trinkets and momentos.  It's the museum of my life.  There is a little bit of everyone I love in this room, all of the things that have introduced me to joy, inspired me, elevated me and let me down.  This is my space, it is primarily where I create and where my most precious collections are.  Yes, of late I've been writing at work but it's more about finding the best use of my down time than it is about ignoring my safe, creative haven.

When I am in this room (that is currently without curtains but gives me a great view of a brand new window where a protective pewter dragonfly hang) I think, I sing and pace and sulk and cry.  I laugh in here, I make a mess sometimes and other times it's so pristine that I beam with pride.  When I am in this room I am safe and creative and I am my true self.  I know to some it looks like a hot mess but it somewhere I truly breathe and brainstorm.  There is so much to catch my eye, to cull ideas and the comforts of those who make me happiest and those times we shared, shows, parties, weddings, births and break-ups - it is my artist's home.

Tonight is a bucket list event.  I'll be seeing Leonard Cohen in concert.  He's a literary hero and I am beside myself with excitement even though I'll be in the nosebleed section.  I can't wait to absorb all of that energy and then come home in an inspired haze and add his ticket stub to my wall.  Today is momentous.  It is happy.  It is something that means a great deal to me.  I strong-armed one of my oldest and dearest friends to accompany me.  Perhaps a little of that old-school charm and grace will seep into her skin and she'll come away a fan. ;)

If you should find yourself on my wall, know you are loved.  If you don't see yourself chances are you are somewhere on the other side of the room.  That wall is almost full but still needs work.  If you want me to love you, let me know.  There's always room in my heart.

Happy Leonard Cohen day to ME!  Happy Saturday to you all.  Wherever you end up, enjoy.  Don't forget to love your people and offer kindness into the universe so that it comes back to you.  That, is poetry.

In propinquity,

Nic