I bought a book of Pablo Neruda's poetry today...and I stood in the store between the towering shelves, clutching it to my breast just above my heart as though I could absorb it through osmosis, wondering: Am I alone in feeling this way? Both so sated and hungry for the words on these pages? For the things they do to me? Is there nobody else affected as I am, to where I feel this blazing supernova heart of mine sing for the stanzas he wrote?
Sometimes I'm sure I am alone in this but I hope I'm not, because if nobody else can feel this alive and fulfilled for even just a second...what the hell are we all surviving for then, anyway?
Next blog: what it's like to be part of a collaborative writing partnership. I think this subject is vastly unexplored, as successful co-authoring is a rare find and is difficult to accomplish.
(Also, I know I should be more present on this site, as Jessica has been doing most of the networking, and I'm going to make a concerted effort to be a little more active.)
Signing off,
K.G.




Oh, you are definitely not alone on this one. There are many poets that stun me and take away my breath. It's like finding a separate place in this world made by words and once you've found it, it's impossible to remain untouched. I know exactly how you feel.
Maria Rachel Hooley06:17 AM PST