Writers Workshop

Why am I here

The brick walls swallow my voice as they reach toward the heavens

Why am I here? I ask myself one more time.

To learn to be around writers like me. Well, not like me but also writing.

But we write alone

So alone that we pay money to be around people who understand the solitude writing requires.

We hash out ideas

We walk and ask ourselves how we got here and possibly where are we going with this

The host reminds us that others who’ve attended got published, he flashes their books and moves on.

Maybe that’s why I’m there

To try and figure out what to do next.

Please Exist

There is a reason why you’re here

It’s to read this poem and to realize this poem’s existence would cease without you

It would be silent

A dead silence with the night air stuck in a place that never really existed

It would lack the chaos of us

Trees would fall into oblivion

I would fall into oblivion.

Without you,

there’d be no us

there’d be no poetry

You are the poetry

-Saschia