Often as a writer I pour over whether what I am writing is something that should command any attention. I reach out for the ethereal words to grasp them from the semi-opaque vapors in my mind that pass for thoughts, trying earnestly to say something significant. It is nearly inexpressible how I often feel that this is an exercise in futility: I can never say it well enough. It will fail, I fear… I believe. I even wrote an untitled poem back in early March that I posted on my personal Instagram (@prramer) that spoke to this feeling of inevitable failure at words.
The Company of Dreams
As one day follows another and enters the stream of indivisible past, I find myself pondering more the nature of dreams and of reality. This musing has been influenced particularly by the filmmaker David Lynch, as well as prior work in my classes on composite imagery and a growing interest in ontology, the study of … Read more The Company of Dreams
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