writing

I love my poems. I’m going to herd some of mine around today, as well as others’.

They’re always there, you know, if you look for them. I like to pretend, sometimes, that I don’t have “inspiration,” and I’m waiting. But they’re there. Got to go find them.

Rather like how Charles Hermite saw numbers and equations — pre-existing, independent of us. You had to wait and watch, and know how to watch, for them, and maybe, if you worked hard and were lucky…