Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Yesterday a Facebook post made me write. Thank you Scott Hernandez for writing about duende and Lorna Dee Cernvantes on my wall. I needed the duende reminder. Last night I made myself write for the first time in weeks, reading Parra, Cernuda, Neruda, trying to tap into the duende and I got it. I went to the page with nothing, no ideas of what I wanted or anything. Who said the line about how writing is easy? All you do is sit and open a vein? I started a poem that wasn't very good but it got to one line man, one freaking line that as soon as I wrote it I started bawling and couldn't stop for an hour. Then I went to bed and bawled some more. Fucking duende. I abandoned the poem but was happy that as crappy as the poem may be I have one line that, even if it isn't good for anyone else, is good for me. I'd forgotten to go to my writing with that in my heart, I've been concerned with the words. The vein opened.