Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Reading the Greats

I read.
And read.
And read.

The greats,
the contemporaries,
the literary pillars,
the light recommendations.

And instead of feeling the pressure
of my words
that may not matter at all
in their shadow,

I just want to sit and write.

I want to join their singing chorus.
The ones in print,
the ones who captured what can't be said.

Their beauty cries out for a response.

1 comment:

Jaimie said...

I've been reading the greats lately. They're a lot easier on my debilitating self-deprecation than modern day writers. I don't know why that is. But it's easier to write after reading someone whose voice is so different. It started with Fitzgerald and has gone to Dostoevsky, James Joyce, and soon Henry James.