03-07-2019, 01:06 AM
My mood changed, writing the last stanza. I felt desperate, and had to have something more desperate and rushed. I almost left it fragmented, but, to me, more immediate. I had to finish the poem so I could go on to something else. I always have to. I have another poem called Howling where I did the same, I just wrapped it up and pushed it away. But in a slower way in Howling. I have to be in a rush before my mind stops working, or the season changes or somebody moves away. I can't separate my mind realm from my poem realms without some refined recklessness. I mean, I'm writing desperate poems.