I’m a list maker; jotter-downer-of-words, thoughts and tons of to-dos.
They’re written by hand, put in my phone and typed into documents on my computer. I use lists to keep myself organized, to remember fleeting ideas to be revisited for whatever reason. Sometimes there is no reason, I merely liked the phrase.
You might say that lists are my muse. This is especially true when I use writing a list to excite my writing. Usually those lists are merely words that fall under some sort of heading like “things that are orange” or “things that start with the letter Y.”
A few days ago, I was reading back through an old journal and I came on a list entitled, “things that are opening.” The way it flowed was almost poetic. It had an interesting cadence.
I wanted to edit the list completely, but somehow the raw, not completely refined version seems better … just left open …
my eyes, my heart, new stores and restaurants
flower buds and doors while walking in and windows lifted up
a book and flowy curtains or an opening act
nuts for hungry squirrels and Venus fly traps reaching for prey
clams and oysters pop open on the grill
and a break in the clouds let sun stream down
arms to give a hug and mouths imbibing in a drink
camera shutters open and shut, as does a day at sunrise and sunset
petals unfurl, like hands playing a game of open them, shut them
blinking eyes and baby birds awaiting a worm
draw bridges being raised for passing ships and fish gates for passing water life
hatching chicks peck their way out of the eggshell
a seedling sprout opens to the world above
Just a list … jotted down –
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