the real reason for the brief absence is due to the usual; doubts, all the old doubts, and a nagging inside goes on almost all the time, it just sometimes nags so lightly it may as well not nag at all but sometimes the nag it nags is an insistent and pesky nag which I try to tell it so much nagging soft or hard or smooth or harsh is not as necessary as the nagging committee seems to believe, the root of it being, I may not really be a writer-poet-guy, might’ve been swimming in deception, self-deception, escaping into another unreal dreamworld, and when these bouts arise they seek to force an engagement but they are like the nags that nag, as in I tell them I won’t cry too hard and long if I learn I’ve only been
fooling myself or letting others fool me, because the whole writing-poetry field was something I wandered into from elsewhere – yes from another unreal dreamworld – so no this wasn’t one of those “I knew from an early age” so yes I say when these ideas come along and try to coerce a confrontational engagement, try to make me cry, but they won’t, they won’t make me cry because I could put it away, never write another word – easy. And to make it easier I open one and think it should suck enough, clearly suck enough, that this putting all the wordsmithing tools away forever will be easy. But that’s a mistake, to open one, to see, because sometimes it makes me laugh. And I’m not too good at too many tools but with a few a second nature approaches closer. Bad stuff this wordsmithing stuff. Bad bad stuff.