Andrew, in reference to yesterday's snapshot poem, asks what is my process?
It varies some, but lately I begin to think about the snapshot poem on Tuesday, just paying attention and considering what I might write about. This week, I was blocked by my despair about politics, so had to write that out first; and of course I had the special occasion of Mariah's birthday. I wandered about for awhile, thinking about Mariah and taking note of what was in front of me, writing without thinking or editing.
It's rather like this, really -- I begin with lots of words and ideas, and then a rain comes and strips the stems down -- fewer leaves and flowers, more shape -- if I'm lucky. Sometimes I go back through my notebook for images or thoughts, dreams or fragments that feel like they might fit into what I'm doing.
For quite awhile it's mostly about feeling my way -- then I put it on the computer and begin to work it into shape -- shape being exactly what I mean, here. How does it look on the screen? Where are the rhythms, the natural line-breaks?
Rarely, I get something complete and dramatic. More often it's like what I intended to do today, to try the suggestion at Poetry Thursday to weave together a piece from fragments of overheard conversations. But then it was a day to stay home, where there were no conversations on which to eavesdrop.
So I offer this visual collage instead, and hope it will do -- especially for you, Cathy, instead of a poem.
[The Hockney'd honeysuckle was made with fd's Flickr Toys]