I've been thinking a lot about poetry lately, about the best and the worst of it. About how a single stanza can bring on an epiphany, or mangle language so badly we lose all faith in it. I've been thinking about poetry, and how it can mend, and how it can break. I've been thinking lately about birds and their fierce independence, their fierce independence that their partners defend. I've been thinking a lot lately about my teen years and how many of us knew exactly what we wanted to be when we grew up and how many of us now laugh nervously at that idea. How many of us wonder when this being a grown up thing kicks in and whether or not we will be notified. I've been thinking about plants and how the seasons can confuse them so, and still they thrive, and still they grow. If they cannot quite predict the weather, they can defend against it and blossom in November, if need be. I've been thinking a lot about gender and how I do not understand it. I do not know what, aside from biology, makes me feel like a woman, but I do know if I woke up tomorrow, entirely myself but in a man's body, I would feel a bit off. I've been thinking about that feeling you get when you've had two and a half pints and you're not quite drunk but you're not quite sober either and how much better life would be for all of us if we could maintain that feeling perpetually but that we wouldn't - half of us would get too drunk and too rowdy all the time and the other half would panic at the slightest slip of inhibition and swear off this forever and always. I think a lot about god/gods/goddesses and how, whether you believe in them or not, you've gotta admit, these stories don't make sense. I've been thinking about dark chocolate and how much I love it (sorry, James), and wondering if it's because the combination of sweet, bitter, and heavy is some kind of irresistible metaphor for...something. I've been thinking about tattoos and piercings and dyed purple hair and how so many think they are a call for attention and how maybe they are, but not for the reasons they think. That maybe it is not ourselves we are calling attention to but the fact that art can be both permanent and fluid, that flesh and steel can coexist, that our bodies are indeed temples and we should decorate them as we see fit. I've been thinking a lot lately about how many of my idols have died of (thank you Gord, thank you David) cancer or (thank you Prince, thank you Tom) substance overuse, and how very dare I, what nerve I have to squander the not even half as much talent, but more than double the health they had. I think a lot about how that dark cloud can give way to that bright sun and oh how deceptive that is. I've been thinking about squirrels, and how they are not picky, but they are meticulous. I've been thinking about my washing machine, my deep freeze, my clean water on demand, my country full of guns but with no guns at all, really, not in the way that matters. I've been thinking about poetry, and how it can mend, and how it can break.
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