My apologies. I could not stop myself from using a Tennessee Williams quote, though I know that it is taken quite out of context, and that I am no Elizabeth Taylor. Well, perhaps I could be an Elizabeth Taylor in her older, battier, hat-with-netting-wearing days . And the quote is accurate, in the sense that I have finally found myself writing again, which is a wonderful and reassuring thing.

The Siege in the Room began unexpectedly: not only did it begin the night before I had planned, it began with me writing … prose. I think I have mentioned before on the blog that prose and I have an uneasy relationship which can only be described through a Catullus quote (and this is, I think — at least, hopefully — the only time I’ll ever have to say that):

I hate and I love. Wherefore I do it, perhaps you seek [to understand.]
I do not know, but feel it happen and I am tortured.

Which is to say that, when writing prose, I sometimes feel as though I’m wearing a fire fighter’s uniform: everything feels heavy and bulky, and I’m not sure how things are supposed to work. Therefore, I was surprised when, suddenly, instead of poetry came prose, and it felt strangely right, and oddly comfortable. It’s an excellent exercise if only for one reason: in writing prose, I realize how much I tend to depend upon linebreaks (and, occasionally, red wheelbarrows as well), especially in terms of meaning.

Yesterday, I wrote three poems. Three poems in a day — something which hasn’t happened since the Neural Explosion of 2006, during which I found myself in a period of fierce productivity. Hopefully, this will continue. The poems I’m writing are very different, and, I hope, will give much-needed structure to the witch book.

I have to admit that I find myself more and more grateful for the great miracle that is the Internet: I, sadly and stupidly, packed my copy of Malleus Maleficarum, and am very glad that there’s an easily-accessible and easy-to-navigate version online.