I said to my head

            The title of this blog is not random. “Write something” actually comes from one of my favorite poems. It’s a short poem by Lorine Niedecker from her book New Goose. I’m not sure why I like Niedecker so much. Her words are simple but I don’t understand them. She’s not like Emily Dickinson who uses common words in weird ways. No, Niedecker is simple, but her words call to something in me that I don’t completely understand or hear. I guess that’s how I feel about most poetry.
            Anyway, I was going to try to be poetic today, but all I can hear my mind telling me this poem of hers:
 
I said to my head, Write something.
It looked me dead in the face.
Look around, dear head, you’ve never read
of the ground that takes you away.
Speed up, speed up, the frosted windsheild’s
                        a fern spray.
 
            Right now, my laptop is very much that frosted windshield. I can’t see my own reflection staring back at me, but I can see the light coming through my window. I wish my window were frosty; I cannot wait for winter. One day, I want to sit at a frosted window and draw designs in it. Frost is so beautiful to me, the way it does look like a fern.
Here’s my poem:

The sun pours in

My little room
The way a child
Over pours milk
 
It consumes my little space
Over powering every corner
With blinding light
 
Though it hurts my eye
I stare at the bright frost
That spreads its wings
Taking its flight
In my imagination
 
It soars, swoops,
Falls, flutters, flips,
Dives and rises
 
The frost bird
Flies to the brilliant sun
Its dazzling wings
Begin to droop
 
My window cries