An exploration of the creative process through art, poetry, and community.

I have to pull in my ambitions; my vision,

chased across canvas

with color and line, that

firmness I wish

for my weak body,




that girl at my fire, the one

with bare legs

who touches me.

What do I do with all these ambitions?

Blow them out like a gale, all around?

Breath in, let them fill me,

Exhale and release them,

Crows and doves all mixed together?

Maybe then I can finish the things I’ve started.

I can go around with a net

And recapture the ambitions

That I know are worth feeding.

Those left will fly far away,

Or twitch and die,

And rot on the ground,

Their smell dogging me until the grass finally swallows them.

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