Here is an old tumblr post reflecting on writing a poem

I don't think anyone ever read this, which is why I feel okay about posting it here:

Today, while writing a poem, I reached a point in the poem where I felt the need to add a last line. I was sitting outside. It was windy, probably the winds from the front of a hurricane’s weather pattern as it makes its way inland from the Carolinas. I just sat there for awhile and stopped looking at the poem. When I remembered the poem, I realized there was no need for a last line. I closed the notebook and walked inside where the internet needed to be reset. I would have to wait to type the poem into its file, hosted in a digital cloud. I unplugged and replugged the wifi. I walked outside to check the mail. I wasn’t wearing shoes. I felt pebbles and leaves stick to my feet. I thought about how long I would have to wait to upload the detritus into my body. I didn’t wonder this aloud. I didn’t even wonder it verbally. It wasn’t until I wrote it down that I realized I had wondered it. Now that it has been wondered, it is here, inside me.