I started that journey back tonight, back through my archives, remembering what I was thinking, where I was, what things smelled like, summer nights on the porch, smoking late, big bugs and fighter jets streaking night skies.
I re-read a lot of my poetry. I didn't think it was too bad. I thought some of it was actually pretty good, and that kind of amazed me considering I composed every letter of what I wrote during the past year inside my blogger post window. No forethought. No malice.
I noticed several themes, you know, when I strung it all together. These were, in no particular order: loss, love, voice, birth, chained, untied, child, without, writing, movement, silence.
Tonight I decided to make a book of it.
You know, some of it at least.
So I made a PDF. Of my poetry. Named it "Running out of Rhyme." Turned out to be 35 pages.
I'm posting it here. For you.
Download it if you want to.