It comes out of nowhere and grows big and bad and soon you run out of space on the page and it keeps spilling and morphing and shaping into something unrecognizable. That’s when you know you’ve created a poem monster. It wants to speak its own language and uses its unique hand writing and it likes to scribble. I have never given birth to one until today and it looks kind of cute in all its rawness. It doesn’t resemble me, at least I don’t think I resemble it but I might be wrong.
What’s IT talking about? At the moment that is not quite important. Sometimes we just like to look at things even if we don’t understand them. I think that’s OK. I have seen other people’s poem monsters and know that they belong to a tribe that doesn’t belong. Just not mainstream, you know, but they don’t hurt anyone, and always wait so patiently for someone to pick them up and give them a weigh on the hands.
Statistically speaking if you keep writing poems you are bound to create some poem monsters. That’s when you know you’ve stepped through a threshold into the unknown and it is WONDERful!
