“Do you know," Peter asked, "why swallows build in the eaves of houses? It is to listen to the stories.” ~ J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan



i'm not sure it is writer's block.  it just feels like writer's time off.  like photographer's time off.  like painter's time off.  poet's time off.  it feels like just opening the door and taking dictation from the day, taking it into my soul and heart and rubbing it on my skin, and letting it penetrate and ooze down and fester and cleanse all at the same time.  it feels like laying in the sun with not a dab of sunscreen, letting it all in, taking it, embracing it, closing my eyes and sleeping with it, practicing unsafe art.  no protection from what comes or what doesn't.

yesterday evening the fall of a bird's egg from an unseen nest,
landing unbroken on the staircase.
a pearl dropped from the heavens.
the pear tree full of baby pears but leaves gone all black.
this morning the loud song of cardinals sending happy into the sunshine,
the jingle belle cat nesting in the monkey grass, glowing white light of contentment.
my brother borrows money and i notice his hair has gone gray overnight
with the snap of time's fingers, and my heart cannot look away.  

the street outside is the downhill part and kids coast by on bicycles, no helmets.
just backward turned baseball caps in the breeze.  



  1. I've been gestating three novels - one for 8 years, the others much shorter. The long-standing novel has been written in bursts, between which I learn, have insights, and the characters grow. Then I go back, with fundamental shifts. The other two haven't even made it past a few scenes. I think you are right about cycles, not blocks - it's only a block when we try to force it when we're not ready to express that yet. (love you)

    1. cheryl. yes! that is it exactly.

      a friend just posted this joseph campbell quote on FB: ‎"This is an absolute necessity for anybody today. You must have a room, or a certain hour or so a day, where you don’t know what was in the newspapers that morning, you don’t know who your friends are, you don’t know what you owe anybody, you don’t know what anybody owes to you. This is a place where you can simply experience and bring forth what you are and what you might be, This is the place of creative incubation. At first you may find that nothing happens there. But if you have a sacred place and use it, something eventually will happen."

      perfect timing.

      and thank you. xoxo

    2. I am certainly in the "time off" mode right now... its OK .. if not we would miss those pearls.. and the wind blowing through the newly leafed trees...

  2. practicing unsafe art, oh, that made me smile.

    and the rest, a gem of a poem filled with word paintings.

    there are times to write and times to wait, to absorb, that is how i think of it. it's not a block, it is simply waiting for the bowls to refill, until they are ready to overflow again.

  3. i like these words: "gestation," "cycles," "waiting," much better than my "tumult" and "chaos" and "cauldron." and sugar, if this is how you write during a block, may we all be treated to your writer's blocks. i just love seeing the world through your eyes.

  4. unsafe art. I love it!!!

    your writing is just pure gorgeousness.
    like a lithe, dark, knowing cat.

  5. pearls dropped from heaven
    lovely words indeed.


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