The dying art of letter writing

Today, I recieved a letter in the mail from an old friend.
A New Mexican who loves the stark and barren romance
of the landscape that envelops her.
The look of her hand-written script was as pleasing and artfully disheveled
as I remember her to be.

My eyes joyfully followed the line of letters and bold, punctuating marks
in their fervent effort to describe.
I could tell that she relished each stroke of that drugstore ballpoint pen.
The pressure, release and glide of it's crown
translating her mood as sensitively as an artist's sable-haired brush.

I wondered whether she realized, or cared
that every tenth word or so was illegible.
Causing the eye to stop and tumble over them.
Words that looked like balls of tangled thread.
Others like hastily written musical notations.
Or ancient Japanese calligraphy by the "Wild Sisters of Zen."

I was surprised by the intensity of my gratitude
for the drop of water or tear or tea that bled the ink
and curled the corner of the page.

This simple hand-written note.
Like a relic, a keepsake, a remembrance.
A true oddity among the daily scroll
of digital salutations.

The sage-scented sheet extended out like an invitation to a handshake.
A tactile way to bridge a distance seperating two friends.
A way to touch.

IMUNURI Prompt: Write Without Paper

In the next two weeks, try this writing technique:
instead of putting implement to paper to write, then revisiting what you've written to revise,
write an entire poem in your memory.

It will help to recite the poem to yourself as you write it, to commit lines to memory before you add new lines.

You might also write stanza by stanza if that's easier, completing each before jotting it down and moving on to the next.

What choices will you make to help you compose a poem in your memory before writing it on paper?

TAGS: your name, poem, memorize