Today i am grateful for this: BrainPickings. Because sometimes the muse takes a long time to show up.

“I give myself permission to just make for the sake of making without any thought to the outcome, which can be surprisingly hard. … What I would tell my younger self is this: There is no “right” way to make art. The only wrong is in not trying, not doing. Don’t put barriers up that aren’t there — just get to work and make something.”

We are the makers. It is great: “The idea of divine inspiration and an aha moment is largely a fantasy. Anything of value comes from hard work and unwavering dedication. If you want to be a good artist you need to look at other artists, make a lot of crappy art, and just keep working.”

My friends in Missoula almost got buried in snow. An avalanche nearly buried them. This poem, whatever it becomes, is for them.

I’m going to just keep working, here at this desk, because I don’t know what else to do:

The Perfect Temple 

This noisy arrival means that

common wit

takes the place of fond years.

i’ll  count the closest icicles,

and be struck with snow.

Ashes on the snow,

it spring near hours.

Take these impeccable temples,

in flashing scenes,

hold dear these most pedestrian solitudes,

take it and make well-cut pottery,

bring new the vessels.

See it with a pleasing eye.

Look though it with those happier note-takers.

The most powerless of examples,

can bring strange warmings.

These honeyed centuries,

get harder and harder to fathom.

Stay with us as we fathom them,

Stay with us in the making,

Stay with us as we carol it in,

Stay with us as we sing this boat,

Stay with us as we mouth the songs,

Stay with us as we nod and exclaim,

Stay with us as we photograph and comment,

Stay with us as our smiles narrow,

Stay with us as the pointing hands get placed,

Closer to the reins.

This is our house of soul.

Milk it.

Skirting away these buggy glimpses,

we dream in whispers, and

we lie with awe.


I have no idea what this poem means. I mean, I know that there were some ideas involved, but I can’t really place them. It is scattershot, and I know that. But I also know that there are many more to come, and I can make it mean more latter, which is a great thing. I sat down tonight, and got to work, and this is what came of that. Maybe it’s a good thing? Happy Sunday, you makers of art. love you! Anna.