Writing after a break
Coming back to the desk after time in nature
Writing after a break
I write to you now from Christchurch, New Zealand. My writing desk is on the borderlands of an estuary. There are a dozen houses or so before my street ends and wetlands begin. Within walking distance are two river mouths, Avon and Heathcote. But there is still distance between me and nature.
Suburbia is beyond my door: SUVs, security cameras, lemon trees and dog walkers. I must pass through it, if I want to be somewhere other than this house. I’m only here for another few weeks. I cannot help but feel the strangeness of this place seeping into my body. No matter what: my circumstances influence the page in front of me.
Breaking the surface tension
It’s a new year and I’ve been struggling to find the flow of this website. I felt inspired at the end of last year. Now, my mind is on other things. Real survival things. Find a permanent space to live. Grow roots. Bear fruit and make a living in the market.
There are deep parts of me that love the life of a poet on the road. But the human animal needs stability, security. I feel like a king beneath a roof, after sleeping by rivers over Summer. How glorious, the running water of a shower. How divine, the…
