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Poetic License: E-mails from poetswife3

By Staff | Aug 9, 2017

FROM: poetswife3@hohum.com

TO: cyberp@yenta.com

SUBJECT: Another 1 of those days

Cyberpath, it’s going to be another one of those days!

He spent most of last night

tumbling and tossing in bed

like a load of towels in the dryer –

wrestling with the muse he calls it.

I call it something else 😉

but I’ve learned to sleep through it,

the mumbling and chanting,

the counting on his fingers in the dark …

He wants the computer now

so he can put all he wrote in his head

into the word processor

before he forgets it.


FROM: poetswife3@hohum.com

TO: cyberp@yenta.com


Finally. He’s stuck (blocked)

so he’s lying on his back now

on the white couch in the living room

that I don’t allow him on

unless he’s working on a poem.

You should see him:

his right arm dangling

and touching the floor,

his legs crushing the cushions,

his belly a little higher than it was

for the last poem

and his eyes staring at the ceiling

even though they’re closed –

I don’t know what he can see there.

Completely still,

you would think he’s dead,

except his lips are moving.

and every few minutes

his fingers start counting again.

He’ll be like that for about a half hour

and then he’ll turn sideways

into his fetal position which means

that he’s breaking through the “wordjam”

(as he calls it) or that he wishes

he were in the womb again,

or both. :->

It looks like I have at least 15 minutes

so let me tell you the latest …

FROM: poetswife3@hohum.com

TO: cyberp@yenta.com

SUBJECT: I hooked up the laptop

Otherwise I might not have been able to reply today.

Three hours ago he erupted from the sofa

and has been at the computer ever since,

either keyboarding like crazy

or staring stony-eyed at the screen.

Now and then he yells out “Yes!” or “That’s it!”

as if he’s announcing basketball or baseball,

the yelling is followed by keyboarding,

reading of the latest entry and clapping

that grows louder and louder as he get closer

to the end of the first draft;

soon there will be a long quiet

and then I will be called in

to become, in his words,

“the first human other than the poet

to experience the poem.” ?

In the meantime, I’ve read

the E-mails you forwarded me,

and I enjoyed them, especially ….

FROM: poetswife3@hohum.com

TO: cyberp@yenta.com






SUBJECT: BAK to Planet Earth

Cyberpath, Congratulate Me.

I am the first human other than the poet

to experience “As Through A Prism Darkly”.

It really is a good poem, one of his best,

although as usual he claims

it needs about ten rewrites

before he can let a human

other than the poet and his wife read it.

Thank God, everything is back to normal.

I’ve straightened out the cushions on the sofa

and taken his socks and mocs

out of the living room.

He is totally spent now,

just like he is after u-no-what,

i.e. when he can squeeze in u-no-what

between stanzas (I hope your E-mail is secure).


As I am keyboarding this E-mail,

he has just come in to ask,

“What’s for dinner?”

I remind him that I’ve asked him about that

several times today and then I tease him by replying

in my best gruff imitation of poet-at-work,

“Don’tbothermenow well done with baked poetato.”

he is startled for a second and then we both LOL

(laugh out loud).

Now he is telling me tenderly,

“It must be tough to be a poet’s wife.”

“At least half the time,” I joke, LOL+

(laughing out loud again)

He kisses me

but now he is mumbling

“poet’s wife, poet’s wife,

poet’s wife as metaphor, irony”,

OMG, (Oh my God)

the “Yes!” and “That’s it!” look is coming into his eyes,

he wants the computer back,

another poem is coming –

and guess what it will be about this time?

TTYT (Talk to you tomorrow.) Pw3.