I do not draw or sketch. I write. My first published writing was a creative nonfiction story, but since then I’ve concentrated on poetry. At the writer’s conference, I was given a blank journal and pen. The cover of the journal had an ink swirl on it: You know you’re bored when you draw tornadoes. Not my reaction at all – ink swirls on a page isn’t boredom. It’s the writer’s way of conquering the abyss staring at him. Where do I begin? An empty page taunts my pen to sketch poetry.
Tornadoes sweep in