what’s right in front of me
I figured out that another bad writing habit I have acquired (second only to not writing at all and a close cousin to waiting for things to make sense) is this odd notion (where did it come from?) that I have to look back in time and make connections and package things up with some kind of perspective. Blech. I hate poems that do that. Why did I get stuck in that place in my head? I had forgotten that if I look at what’s right in front of me, there’s an organizing principle all its own at work. Duh.
So, the title (working title only, I think) of this draft is inspired by that realization. (You’ve been warned that they don’t make any sense, right?)
POEM REMOVED FOR EDITING