Swamp Flowers

I’m swamped: Papers. Applications. Emails. Oral drills. Worksheets. Briusov. Blok. Akhmatova. Geothe. Flaubert. Hong Lou Meng. Saikaku. Higuchi. 

And then I have these bursts of ideas for fiction, flowers in the midst of the muck. But I am sorry flowers, I do not have time to tend to you. You’ll just have to do your best in the mud.

But wait, is that not where you bloom best, dear lily? Even while I struggle to find time to even imagine fiction, you grow in the dark, and take root in the muck of my life. 

Or maybe I am just making excuses for why I have no time to write fiction. 

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