This past week, something awful and interesting and intimate and emotional and fascinating (all at once) happened. I almost don’t know what to do with the experience.

Do I keep it to myself forever? Do I make it into art?

Writing about this particular experience is difficult because it happened too recently and also because I don’t know that it’s respectful to write about. It’s not an experience many people have. Those that do would probably appreciate reading a poem about it.

It’s not like me to “overthink” (yes, one word) the creation of a poem, yet here I am. One part of my brain says it’s a beautiful moment in some ways. Another part of my brain asks, “how could you even consider writing about this?”

I don’t know what to do.

BITS

During my conference, I learned — among other things — that a completely unsexy business such as dumpsters can be made to be fun and profitable.

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Work continues on the latest 32 Poems. I’m making up for lost time in some areas to get this out asap.

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