pi & anne

Give it to me.

—What?

Some truth. Some kindness.
No advice, but a suggestion.
I want to shame me again for
not doing as others do.
I need—

… love?

Look at these piles of books!
I need them to become less
at my bedside. I have to
read more.

It’s okay. You don’t have to
read as much as they say.

…

Miraculously, you improve your writing.
Just by living your life intently. By reading
when you feel like it. In fact, this is no miracle.
You simply favour your first-hand experience
over reading about those of others.

After all these years of hiding in others’
stories you are dedicated to your own. You
find the words as they come to you.

And another thing: those who think they
need to make that what they write hard to
understand, they just exclude. Please
don’t be ashamed or sad you cannot
understand or write like them.

You are welcome.

sitting with all that night winter sun

running through
the boughs of larch
my breaths
almost alive
after all, alive