I took a bunch of photos yesterday, but still have only written one poem since 4/15 and I am beginning to worry. I have nothing to say! Why don't I have anything to say? Next week my summer class begins, and I may have even less than nothing to say then. I am drinking some unfiltered organic apple cider vinegar in the hope that it works as a creative tonic. If it works, I will let you know.
This may be a case of not making time to write. I don't normally need to make time to write. Perhaps I should give it a try.
3 comments:
The pic reminds me of the Holy Salt-Stain Virgin on the underpass on Fullerton in Chicago. It always looked like a vagina to me. I guess that trades one symbol of creativity for another, more primitive. I doubt most poets would accept a giant vagina as their muse, though.
Remember how people were there all the time, with candles? That's what it reminded me of, too. PS: Nobody was worshipping this one.
Yes! They were bringing their novenas and their gifts and praying like, O Giant Vagina, please heal my broken heart! And stuff like that. Come to think of it, though, I'm sure I've muttered that prayer a few times in my life.
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