Except Not Today
Some days, there’s a snow storm in my head and the roads are so icy that the post office shuts down. The mailmen all stay home. No messages are delivered.
Your feelings might be real. They probably are, even if they’re not. And maybe, in an effort to be faithful to them, you dream up the perfect image to serve as a representation. A little picture of your feelings. Not spoken about. Shown, like your English teachers wanted. And you cast your image in lines and stanzas, sensitive to the range of connotation in every single word, seeking only words that walk the line. They contribute to your image while evoking your feelings. You get lost in translation. There’s a conversation between the concrete and abstraction that you never fully understand. But you eavesdrop. Your whole life is this straining to hear.
And you write it down, which, while you do it, feels like enough. It always does.
And then it’s done. You know it’s done when the last word clicks and you read it out loud. It comes down like a waterfall. You fold the paper carefully, part of the ceremony. After you address the envelope, place your poem inside, lick it, and seal it, you find a stamp and walk to the mailbox in your boots and big coat. Your face is wrapped up in your favorite blue scarf.
But some days, there’s a snow storm in my head and the roads are so icy that the post office shuts down. The mailmen all stay home. No messages are delivered.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Reader Comments (14)
My mind is always a storm.
Writers block. Always a fucker.
Love this post a very lot. When I get to feeling disconnected from the world I get trampoline imagery (it hardly ever snows here). The line from Paul Simon's Graceland, "sometimes when I'm falling, flying, tumbling in turmoil I say, 'whoa, so this is what she means'" plays in a loop in my head. Still, snowstorm, good visual.
Your feelings might be real. They probably are, even if they’re not.
so, so true.
I've got a storm all the time too. I used to have clear days but that was a very very long time ago.
i read it for what is, but cant read between the lines... then i must read it over, and cheat by reading the other responses... to fully understand... feel stupid but what the hell, i will eventually figure this shit out.
PS been reading your posts for about a week, have managed to Walk everyday (got an old dog on a leash and a little whipper snapper in the stroller) You, and your words were an inspiration, today i walked with a friend and her dog.
Thanks BHJ you rock!
oh i forgot to say i went back in time to read some of your posts from Jan and Feb.
YOU STILL ROCK, and i still have to re-read. LOL I'll get it soon don't you worry bout me :)
Funny. Even with the snow and the ice, you still seem to run like 7 fucking miles every day. WTF?
find the waterfall.
Hunkering down on those days allows those next strokes of brilliance to incubate til mail service resumes!
At least take some time to try and piss "BHJ" in cursive in the snow.
Fantastic post. I hope you wrote this in the midst (or at the end) of writer's block because what a way to break it. Wonderful.
but the real question is, what are these mailmen in your head wearing?
That's funny...DGM is having mailman problems, too. (Don't shoot me, I'm only the messenger, errr, mailgirl, so to speak.)