half-assed little dribbles of verse


Writing the below post about the strange normalcy of people walking around downtown Chicago reminded me that while working at the Aon Building & Prudential Center for a few weeks last month, I got all poetic-like and started making up a poem in Ginsburgian/Sandburgian style.  Massive office towers teeming with humanity can do that to you.  Sort of an ode/entreaty to the “Office workers of America!”  But since i was just making it up in my head as I wandered the crazy food court nether regions of those particular skyscrapers, I would never remember to jot any of it down later. What do real writers do about this sort of thing?

 P.S. It was a really awesome poem, ok? Even if it doesn’t sound that awesome!

P.P.S. cold4thestreets, I so feel you, re: the whole “where’s the space/motivation/energy for art in my life now?” thing. Also the whole “oy, I feel old!” thing.

3 Responses to “half-assed little dribbles of verse”

  1. squashi Says:

    i think they take their moleskines out of their pockets and jot down a few notes. I am so sad that history has lost this important literary document forever! Can’t you remember any of it?

  2. E Says:

    ladies, please enlarge your font to help protect the blind.

  3. jeanmeanie Says:

    Ok E! Stay tuned for changes…
    (We aim to please.)

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