Once upon a time I missed a plane. This event, even though it was not the beginning, has come to represent a specific period of intense creativity in my life. It was almost like a second wave, or maybe a third or fourth. Time has begun to blur. The long title of the Missed Plane collection, which is a subset of This Passion's History (see language-woman-man), is a micro poem in itself...
it was so good
to miss my plane,
i may have to
miss another
Every creative spark has a catalyst--events, images, sounds, people, etc. People also inspire and encourage. For a writer, this is powerful. I've worked with many other writers in workshops, and couldn't have done any of this work without them, but I've found more growth in my writing from working with artists in different genres. During much of the Missed Plane period my writing was influenced by visually and musically creative souls.
On the surface was once dedicated to someone who helped me comb through all my writing, rethink it, and ready it for publication. It was the first time I was truly encouraged to pursue writing as a career. Even though that dream didn't happen then, I am forever grateful for this support.
I've recently replaced full dedications with initials. I'm not the same person I was when I wrote the poem. I'm often not the same person 24 hours later. The same is likely true for who the poem is dedicated. Small versions of us still exist. I cherish those past selves. That's what the dedication represents, and that's enough for me.
it was so good
to miss my plane,
i may have to
miss another
Every creative spark has a catalyst--events, images, sounds, people, etc. People also inspire and encourage. For a writer, this is powerful. I've worked with many other writers in workshops, and couldn't have done any of this work without them, but I've found more growth in my writing from working with artists in different genres. During much of the Missed Plane period my writing was influenced by visually and musically creative souls.
On the surface was once dedicated to someone who helped me comb through all my writing, rethink it, and ready it for publication. It was the first time I was truly encouraged to pursue writing as a career. Even though that dream didn't happen then, I am forever grateful for this support.
I've recently replaced full dedications with initials. I'm not the same person I was when I wrote the poem. I'm often not the same person 24 hours later. The same is likely true for who the poem is dedicated. Small versions of us still exist. I cherish those past selves. That's what the dedication represents, and that's enough for me.
excerpt from "on the surface." photo from morgueFile by Kpage
on the surface
-for MW
take a tour through
my life, flip
pages, skim
moments where
one line can be
an entire dream
fill my bedroom with
snow
and Jeff Buckley, watch
Colorado
and Utah fight
outside my door, and
accept
three months and already half
of these three years
are you
©Erin Croley
-for MW
take a tour through
my life, flip
pages, skim
moments where
one line can be
an entire dream
fill my bedroom with
snow
and Jeff Buckley, watch
Colorado
and Utah fight
outside my door, and
accept
three months and already half
of these three years
are you
©Erin Croley
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