Poetry Roll

Five days, twenty-one poems and counting, I'm not sure what's going on except that I'm writing poetry. It's like spring snow melt in the Rocky Mountains. The snow melts and floods all the dry streambeds and the desert comes alive.

I've written a lot of poetry in my life, but never so many poems in such a short amount of time. True, I'm probably going to rewrite some of them. However, I'm going to let them lay for a while and continue the roll. When the muse strikes I write and my muse is obviously attacking me. Therefore, I'm going to continue writing for as long as possible before beginning the process of rewriting.