Escaping in full circle

an escape route of cycles, a cycle of escape routes / wresting some rest, rest from wresting

This one took me two tries to get the formatting right….

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I escape to write

I write to escape

escaping, escaping, escaping

tragically hilarious

                                     how
                            circle     things
                          full              tend
                            to a         to then
                                    come

perhaps my spark is gone

escaped, itself, to dormancy

embers of the fire that was

January, February, March.

Perhaps it’s fine

perhaps it’s Spring

the garden is calling

so the poetry may rest,

                                    one
                      another        love
                    love to             calling
                     support,      to give
                                   rest,

the algorithm here

controls not the algorithm there

for how the field lays fallow

and latency is a strategy of growth,

of life.

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Author’s Note:

I think you might get it. I’ve been in a bit of a creative lull. I have ideas, but they’re not flowing from my hands as they once were between January and March. I’ve seen other writers take some time, time away, time to not be chronically online, time letting their reservoirs refill. I am wanting to do the same without losing sight of why I am here. I am still wanting to steal away to write.

My list of pieces to read, however, grows, as does my list of things I wish to write on. I hear them calling me, day in and day out. Sadly, with some of them I am stumped. Perhaps they just need more time to brew? Whatever the course, I am going to be comfortable with it.

Some of my pieces require some deep diving into things I’ve not fully thought on in a while, and others require a bit of research - a little investigative opinioning if you will. Some others are concerning fiction, in universes I’ve not tread in a while. Perhaps a little escaping to my hidden worlds is just what as needed, somewhere in between escaping to my garden.

The air is cool and the sun is kind - the right formula for simply being outside, and being.