Letter 13

Dear Josephine,

I haven't written poetry in a long time. My first-year of college my Creative Writing professor pulled me aside, telling me that he had showed some of my poetry to his colleagues and that they were impressed by my writing, wondering how such a voice emanated from an eighteen-year-old's hand. I didn't understand the link between age and talent, but I was floored. My junior year I fell in love (again) with literary theory, and presented myself with an unnecessary decision: focus on criticism or creation. I chose the former. I haven't written a poem in nearly three years, when I wrote the upwards of twenty-some poems a year from fourth grade to my third year of college. Today, I attempted to write something. And although I am unsatisfied, it is a step in the right direction (as it's a movement away from my regular topics):

I value the planes between your shoulder and the floor

According to an online resource, “running
and dancing are kinetic activities.” So is fucking:
my hand at a cavity; I value kindness.
I enjoy the not feeling sensation of feeling.
Inertia is for those unable to implode.
See: this paradigm of loving.

-l.c.