Alice Eris Urchin: Ink

05 April 2013

Ink

Your poems are tattoos
that cover your skin
so that you have to wear
turtlenecks when you
come home for Christmas

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Don't be afraid to ask.

THE YEAR OF THE PEN

Today is cold but you are filled up with love and hope and inspiration for ten thousand good things to come and you will be the creator of each one.

THIS WILL BE THE YEAR OF THE PEN.

You are going to master the art of letting things go. Of never looking back. Of being too sure of yourself to sulk over mixed metaphors and misplaced modifiers. You are going to stop erasing, stop second-guessing, stop stopping and starting over. Keep moving forward, sure enough. No pause for reflection. Just keep moving, moving, growing your muscles, loosening your limbs, blooming so big you shatter the pot you were born in and sprawl yourself into the unknown countryside, past orchards, past ponds, past swamps, past hills and mountains and deserts and beaches 'til you turn into dust, dissolve back into the air and light up the sky.

Labels are for soup cans and blog posts

05 April 2013

Ink

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