Hungry for it.
I guess I could say the same for myself.
I was looking through my "Fall 09" poetry file, and I'm disappointed. Under ten pages of new work. I have done some revisions, though, and since I was all "on fire" over the summer it's not the end of the world. In a way, I'm lucky I was able to write at all, considering the massive upheavals that went down recently.
That said, I am very hungry for the following:
1. Writing new poems.
2. Looking over the ms pile I sequenced a while back, and writing the poems that seem to be missing from it.
3. Deciding which 2-3 presses I'll be sending it to.
4. Eating apples and oranges.
5. Generally decompressing.
Last night I found myself photographing a pile of spilled sliced pickles in the grocery store parking lot. They were downright luminous. At first it looked like a flattened stuffed animal soaked with rain. Then the slices began to distinguish themselves. I took the photo, pretending I was scrutinizing a text message rather than brandishing a camera. Then I got into the car and looked at the picture, which had morphed from a brilliant tragedy to what appeared to be a pile of green vomit.
I think I may need to work with the levels a little.