2-5-09

I am not a poet.

I'm still growing into who I am. Currently it would seem as though I am simply a vine wrapped around a pole. I would like to be a quick spreading wildflower, able to go wherever the creative winds take me. Right now I'm stuck in a garden trying to reach the top of my lamppost. I'm trapped by a white picket fence inside this little patch of land. If I start to stray, someone may cut me down.

I'm afraid of taking a writing class or workshop. What if it simply uproots me and puts me in an even smaller patch with just another lamppost to reach the top of?

I don't want fences and lampposts.