Two If By Land, I Do

Do you want revision, air
without clouds, do you want some
time to, do you think of sun’s flesh,
Do you want sinking like an anchor or
Do you want what I want,
Soap for shoulder bone,
Do you want cleansing to begin,
Do you want gelatinous microbes
to torment your undone sin,
Do you want a shapely wooden leg
in a home far away
from your prescriptive land...

 

Amy King at Academy of American Poets

Amy King at Poetry Foundation

Amy King interviewed by The Bookwoman

I carry a notebook everywhere and jot notes down sporadically. That's the beginning of writing, cultivating the habit, at least for a poet of my ilk. I move notes to a computer at some point, then I sit on it.  That can be in my study at home or at a café. But I like the notebook moreover because it gives me permission to write anywhere and for as long or as briefly as I like. I try to enact the idea that a writer writes when she's not doing everything else. And that can happen anywhere at anytime and feel as casual or focused as the writer's mood dictates.