The blog #2: Refrigerator Poetry is from the same Democracy as blogs.

When I started this blog I had this idea of sharing lots of nagging thoughts.

Well, I haven't really had any recently that I wanted to share. I went through a little anger stint with injustice and abuse to others, but it wasn't really getting me anywhere. So I put it aside. I didn't even write about it here because I didn't know how I'd say what I wanted to.

(This is a normal cycle for me. I'll get mad again later.)

Of course, now I have a job starting in a week and I'm more interested in just contributing through my actions rather than my lofty thoughts that no one really wants to hear. (Working with children is a lot more useful than worrying about whether they are being raised appropriately or being robbed of their childhoods by toy companies and/or terrible home environments.)

At the same time, I haven't been spending my time writing as much as I was a few weeks ago. And now I'm craving it. Craving the art of it.

Well, this week I bought my first box of refrigerator poetry magnets. I love love love them. (I just don't like when I can't find the word I want. I have to insert it when and if I copy into a notebook or, say, a blog. On the other hand, it encourages me to use words I might not have remembered to use.)

As I work with the magnets, I bring up that old question: Is this really poetry? Even if I'm not being paid for it? Even if I'm not William Carlos Williams? Why do some people get money for their poetry and others don't? I guess everyone does things that others get paid for. I paint too sometimes, but don't make any effort to sell. I'm just not interested. It's all about where you put your energy.

But here's the simple point I am taking so long to make. We live in an age now when everyone can write a blog and we live in an age where everyone can write poetry.

So the first magnetic poem I have to share is as follows:

Embrace playful poetry.
Don't be allergic to mysterious joy.