Life has a tendency of getting in the way of itself.
I was diagnosed with colorectal cancer in 2016 on the day we accepted a foster child into our home.
I went through treatment, had surgery, completely reshaped my body and learned how to use my colostomy and dramatically shifted my body image. We adopted the child who needs daily support more than some other children.
Daily bread sometimes isn't poetic. Sometimes, it's just harvesting the grain, milling it, mixing the dough, letting it rise, and baking it.
That said, I have begun writing again, in fits and spurts, not daily, but as I process what's happened to me.
It is now a year after my surgery and I am due for my annual checkups so I'm looking at my medical calendar on my iphone, which my wife called the Brown Calendar.
I think it's rather poetic...don't you. Sometimes, poetry isn't written in words. It's written by the life you live and only written down later on. Maybe that's the answer to my original question: How does a poet attempt to view and experience the world as a poet in a world that does not reward those characteristics?
There is no reward, but the life. There is no view but the poet's. There is no world to experience but the poetry within it.
That said, here's a fresh poem about my calendar.