I have taken to writing lines from the news, the radio, lines I read or steal or make up, on pink post-it notes, not being organized enough to keep an actual put-together notebook. These I stick around my computer like frail pink leaves. Though it's been my experience that if you write it down ahead of time, you will never use it later, still there they are, stuck.
When young it's normal to fear losing a good line or phrase and never finding anything comparable again. Carry a small pocket-size notebook...This may or may not help you write good poems, but it can help reduce your anxiety. --Richard Hugo
Except yesterday being what it was, I wrote on the wrong side of the post-it pad, across the sticky bar, so now all the lines are in a row across the bottom of my monitor, fluttering in the air conditioning that is still on, upside down. Only pink space stares up.
Possibly I will choose one, turn it over, and write whatever I find there.
Possibly not.
White squares of light from the window.
It's colder than you'd imagine, looking out.
The word of the day is courage.
