I was browsing the past posts from an account I follow on Facebook, “Poems from Rose Ridge,” and found the following. Has anyone else experienced what the author was trying to convey?
“microessay No 28/ I was writing yesterday and formed an assemblage, partly on paper, partly in my brain. I examined it, how it was and how it might be...and I realized at some level close to the surface, that I did not know anything, that I had no method. It felt as if I had no experience to draw from. In short, I felt completely lost, even as I composed and assembled lines into a poem. It felt as if I'd never written a word, a poem, until that very moment. And I felt damned and blessed all at once. A genius and an idiot all at once. A child. A dead man. Resurrected. G.E. journal 1.24.16”
Sometimes, I have an idea in my head that exited me, but it’s like I can’t find the appropriate language or the right structure to carve that idea out of the fog that exists in my brain. The joyous discovery of trying to free the poem in my head is like writing your first piece all over again. It’s what I live for as a writer.
Yes. It’s a surreal epiphany. I think it is a sign of transition. Taking the next step in our artistic journey. Between one style of poet and the new style of poet coming through. Whether one sees that as a step up, or sideways is up for introspection.