Poems have filled my head ever since my trip by the river with Ford. Like all the words in the world were held in a jar and that jar were turned upside down into my sleeping mind, so I wake up in the middle of the night with all this out-of-order nonsense that I can’t help but think sounds important so I have to get out of bed and write it down.

This is the third night this has happened. I hope it doesn’t stop for another week or so, until the whole jar is emptied, even though my mind spills over already and what’s in my mind tonight displaces what was there the night before. I like to have this non-stagnant flow. It gives me a sense of freedom and creation.