candid things/thoughts

by mickharris

i forgot how to write

if i even knew how to in the first place – it was starting to get there, it was getting closer

or it was, and i am just backing away from it again as i always do


i forgot how to read

now i sit in front of netflix with my iPad, with my iphone

i can’t even watch a movie, because it’s too long

i can’t watch a tv show without looking at some other form of media at the same time

it makes me nervous to sit there and watch something without another piece of digital cold in my hands

splitting attention


i have to make time

i have the time, which is rare for most, and they do it in spite of, or anyway

with kids and debt and hardship and love and burning talent

back to what if i’m a hobbyist

what if i’m really just no good at this


rebecca brown said in five years, at our commencement, she stood up there and said

in five years

most of you will not be writers

the speech was jumbled, odd, dismal

i scoffed but something in my stomach dropped

it’s only been two

will be two this june, i think

and already i am closer to/further away from writing than i have ever been


i have two small pieces published in small places

i am beginning to stick my toes into the lit scene, as it is


and yet i hide, and i don’t write

i don’t make quiet space for myself, ever

i let myself get strung and pinioned and distracted and poised brutally between digital screens

pressed flat like a specimen screaming

yes yes i love it yes do it more

when all i have to do is just wiggle out and try something new.  something old

something i guess i know how to do

i know i know how to do

i’m just not doing it

enough? ever?


general malaise, rampant anxiety, health problems, sanctuary problems

and yet, no problems at the same time

how do you make poetry of this