a collection of poems from summer 2024

It’s hard to know what you mean when you say punk. So, I want to talk about hardcore. There’s hardcore and then there’s hardcore.

Recently, I was speaking with my mom. She’s been struggling to finish a novel. She faults a mixture of perfectionism and the as-yet-arrived intuition of how to finish the book. I’m trying to embrace intuition.

But I value structure. Creativity flows. It requires points of connection to smoothly move.

I imagine the work as a glass vase held in the dark. The shape is filled with water, but the form is lost in darkness. You can feel that it twirls and twists, but cannot know the spirals. You sense the shape is littered with holes, but you can’t know how close the lips are to the water.

Your hands move around the shape, cautiously stumbling toward the shape you already hold.

When writing, I approach the process through conceptualizing the work as a whole. Put all the documents into one file and read. Gaining a sense of the shape of the writing requires fumbling through the ways you’re failing to express yourself.

It is falling down to learn to dance.

Practically, reading everything you’ve written together as it gestures toward the finished work gives you a better sense of what the work wants to be. The successful and failing forms sit side by side. Together, they clarify the spirit brought forth. You find the spirit through editing, through cutting, through reassessing what you think the whole shape is.

I value structure because of its illusory quality. A vague faith in the whole makes communion more satisfying. The shape is a projection of my desires embodied in the work. These desires are realized through the menial task of trial and error, repeated failing experiments.

When a plan goes completely wrong, you become acquainted with your creativity in stretching it to the point of what you are capable of doing in the moment. When I write a song, it becomes all the skill, inspirations, and performances I possess in that moment. Nothing more, nothing less.

In tracing the limit of creativity, I become aware of my intuition. I can better balance the water within the vase of unknown shape.