Thinking about writing doesn't make you a better writer.
Today is always the first day of many days, isn't it?
I haven't heard your wailing and
(my baby knows how to be born)
I am nervous beyond the measure of space
(my body knows how to birth)
but I am waiting&writing for you. I am here,
present in this time, listening to the music of 38/5
the sharp twangs of thigh strings the low brass tones of pelvis and spine. build your city in my twilight, child build your city high.
* bold and italics credited to Chikara Rutledge, thank you for the words to carry