Often, when I start to write, I feel pulled in several directions. At times, I want to take stock; to place myself, my current mood, idea or concern on the page. It feels necessary, somehow, to locate myself. And sometimes I resist all that and move instead into what feels most alive, as I did yesterday morning, in response to a poem. Here’s what I wrote: There are good lines in there. I could write to them. I could record a snippet of something real. And I believe that would