The problem with writing poetry in the dark, is that it is like life.

You can only guess at what mark you are making and whether it makes any sense. And even when you are finished you probably cannot see the whole thing.

Like life, you grope for meaning and to create something. But you cannot see what you are doing.

And should you actual see it - it probably is a big mess of condictions.

I write poetry in the dark

I write poetry in the dark, searching for meaning
not seeing, only feeling.
I grope in my enforced blindness for the words; the meaning; for a truth.
I write poetry in the dark, sober or drunk it is a blessing
My fingers or pen connects to the back of my brain and the words and the emotions pour out. A dark, polluted river of thoughts from my soul.
Free from me, unleashed and no longer dammed, contained, constrained.
I write poetry in the dark, a glimmer of light in the nothingness.
The last glowering, glowing embers from my mind and my will.
Battling sleep and fear and worry and necessity;
chiseling out the only time I can.
To be me
I write poetry in the dark, so I am me
for a few stolen minutes
I am me
for a few precious, stolen minutes
I am me
Before sleep takes me
11/01/07