arrived Facebook wrapped, from her to me and a commonwealth
of other poets. I was on hiatus from the virtual and
much of my usual offline affairs. Months stretched out
between us like concourse lines guiding our roads to an
inevitable reunion. She is a pretty poster child for the
art of poetry and prose, self taught and charming, if you
are not on her No Fucks Given list. You are invited to
join me and a community of other poets. April is our month.
NaPoWriMo became more than a peculiar-looking tongue tickler.
I accepted her challenge, went with the flow. Devoured the
interesting comments her invite engendered. I especially loved
the poets who informed our walls that they didn’t and wouldn’t
and some couldn’t write on call (more or less). Inspiration their key,
I gather. Her invite left me grateful for her reconnect, made
me challenge me. Could I pen poetry off the cuff of my pen on
command? Daily? Like Suzan-Lori parking herself to write a play a day
for one year? Oh dear! What was one month? The call to action set me
in motion. I had to adhere. And in the daily creation, I’ve learned
once more that whatever I set my mind to…I do; that no matter how
long I work, there is energy left to create; that I am a wellspring of
writing fodder as long as I inhale and exhale; that creativity
is a bottomless pit; that whatever I believe becomes deed. A
cook cooks, unafraid. A dancer dances when the body obeys the
rhythm. And a wordsmith culls her masterpiece with words, a
cauldron of possibilities, regardless to when the pot is lit.
When I’m in place, my mind, fingers and spirit know the routine.
Thank you, Nik, the lover of Paper Mate colorful InkJoy pens.
You, as Tupac sang, are appreciated.
(c) Claudia Moss 4/19/2015