crazy wild words

In my poetry class this week, we had two poets talk with us about their processes. One poet spoke about how she is a perfectionist and has to feel completely satisfied with a line before she can move on to the next. The other poet shared about how he just keeps writing and revises later.

Lately, I have been feeling stuck. My words aren't flowing like they have in the past. It is not for lack of inspiration or creativity. In the moment of interaction between the pen and paper, my self-judgment and self-criticism swoop in with a vengeance and paralyze me.

One method I have been using to deal with this problem is to start writing and let the words take control. So, here is me, letting go, spilling words and not being afraid to fail on the page:

Crazy wild words riding bareback on brown horses through meadows soft with pansies fit to do nothing but look flimsy and act flimsier in no contention and fight against the raging wind in a gust of gusto and anger against the night sky. Oh, the fights they have. The dreams they devour. They eat each other's guts with the pleasure of fine guests at the most desirous of restaurants, sitting politely at tables set for twenty using freshly pressed napkins to wipe slobbery spit from their drooling mouths.