My soul hurts.
In my head there is a tap dancer practicing on to my cerebellum.
They told me not to smile so much and not to try to please everyone.
I agree. Yet.
The glaze sucks me back into angst.
Since Friday, I have wanted to crawl into the terribly cold Eau Claire river and float somewhere else. Float back to six months ago or to when I was eight. Or perhaps just float to the eastern corner of my mind where I believe that all of this really doesn't matter. Then my soul smiles and I realize that I could never pretend I don't care about any of this, because I do. Alot. perhaps too much. No. not "too much." I don't care, it's me. I am fascinated with it. Sponge. Self-absorbed four year old. I admit it.
I am sorry. hypocrite.
My head aches to cry but there is much to do.
Pottery and "the smell of the theater" make me spiral into love. Tremplev too.

I begin.

I begin with fall, with the lovely leaves and their spectacle of color. Colour. Coloure. Color.
With rain.
I begin without.
with the mentality. the ambition. the curiosity. the creativity. the soul.
with a legnthy list of tasks to accomplish.
I begin with love. This sounds familiar. where is this sequence from? The voice is in my soul. I know it, but I do not know where is comes from or who wrote it. Perhaps I dreamt it. Or maybe I have said or thought this before. Most likely, it's from some play or prose prentending to be poetry. Dylan Thomas? The Shadow box? Eugene O'Neil? Mourning Becomes Electra. Desire Under The Elms. Oh Eugene O'Neil. Love. What compartment does it dance in?

I probably have. My thoughts are plagerizing as I conjure them. "My heart if full of you."
Truthfully, has anyone ever said anything unique in the grand scheme of language? And that phrase or rather sentence too has probably been uttered or typed previously to this.


Raw.
Staring at the notecard. Off white. I realize my tasks. And I realize I must begin.
And I discover why my French Compositions never make sense. Or my 2AM paper-mache creations.

Th leaves whispher their wrinkled cry and I am swept with them.