being tongue-tied…

Standard

mind overflowing, a reservoir swelling

spilling

no control, no holding back — let it come

words jumbled

ideas rampant

dreams floating, popping, expanding

all too fast for phrases or sentences

too wild for the constraints of the paragraph

flinging like the dancing peaks of a heart monitor

painting with the grace and joy and confusion of a child’s first masterpiece

illegible, unintelligible, unreadable, incomprehensible

but never meaningless

ink leaking, spreading, growing

a mess, blue and black and red running, mixing,

morphing into an impossibly breath-stealing creature

of its own making

glowing, changing, beauty in itself,

a mountain landscape at dusk, the silhouetted forest at dawn

the sigh of briny marshlands

a blink of a shooting star

fleeting, memorable, impacting, true

immortal

you could have never set out to make this

being tongue-tied, it seems

is the secret to accidental genius.

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2 thoughts on “being tongue-tied…

    • Thanks, Diane. I love that feeling where my mind is so full of ideas, words, and sentence fragments that I just sit and write. It won’t necesarrily make sense, but I can decipher bits and pieces to make part of the whole.
      Unfortunately I can’t go back in time and change Hemingway’s words, but I do agree with the dreaming analogy! Dreaming is a daily activity, and definitely is a

      large part of my writing routine. I wouldn’t have half the ideas without a good visit with Thomas Cromwell, or after a stroll through the Scottish highlands. 🙂

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