Walking -- A Poem
I'm currently waiting to hear about a manuscript and so I've found I have some time to do other writing each day. So I thought, why don't I put some of it on my blog. So I'll be posting poetry, and other stuff here each day. Not much. But enough, I think. I hope you enjoy the poem below as much as I enjoy writing it -- it's not done, I don't think. Feel free to comment, but please be compassionate. Thanks for reading. Walking I walk in a forest, or through a field of grass, or down a chalky sidewalk, or in classrooms after classrooms, down aisles of students with their papers and books in tumbles on their desks, through dark and bright rooms filled with tables and chairs and people sitting at tables in chairs, talking, and talking, and talking. My walking is a practice of necessity, of coercion -- or is it consent? My walking is a practice of contemplating the things needing to be ignored, that hurt to hear, or that give us joy to know -- I mean, really ...