sabbatical

I cannot write.

I cannot write.

I cannot write.

"Reality is a cliché

From which we escape by metaphor"

-Wallace Stevens

None of that really matters, but it let itself in [my head] for awhile.

It stayed awhile and asked me questions and I asked back.

It didn't make much sense to me, but I listened.

It didn't have much to do with me or my own thoughts.

No, my thoughts did not compare much to the line.

The line was it's own.

Comment moi.

Oui.

Comment moi.

Oui.

It is difficult to write about one thing when there are so many other things to write about as well!

 

"As the reason destroys, the poet must create"

-Wallace Stevens

I need to write.

I need to write.

I need to write.

And as in that need, I produce thought!

Thought: 

I want to live alone.

That does not mean I am lonely (would it, anyways?)

No, I have discovered how often I like time alone.

And how often I want space to myself.

How often I enjoy the early morning.

Oh, how often.

"Poetry increases the feeling for reality."

-Wallace Stevens

At times I wonder if I could only spend some time out.

"out"

away.

gone.

sabbatical.

goodness, i forgot. they do not pay me to go to school.

and it surely has not been seven years since i've been here.