there are times when i sit in a stupor at one of my mindless collegiate sources of employment and think about communication. i think much better than i speak. oftimes i will think of a very well formed idea and then when i attempt to put it down i’m like charlie brown trying to write his name; everything comes out smudged beyond repair, and the harder i try the worse it becomes. somethings just cannot be forced. last night after work was one of the rare times when something i thought of actually turned out better than i imagined. as i left work into the pleasant night air, off in the distance there was a flash of lightning and a low rumble of thunder and into my mind popped the phrase ‘feed me thunder.’ when i got back to my room i started with that line and kept writing. what it turned into was an opening admonition for a book of spells. i guess it is pretty useless in the manner of actually offering someone an insight on life, but it has a rising tempo in its progress that kinda grabs you. i think if i ever send in some stuff to a publisher, that will be the first thing in the book i’ll want him to read. its a warning, a sign of crisis, but also a hint that if care is taken, understanding will be given. i guess in a way, poems are spells because of the way the exact mixture of ingredients (words) can produce something with much power.
perchance this musing acts as an appendix to the poem, or a cliff’s notes, explaining intent in case the spell is immune to some people.