I am writing this introduction in a clean and dimly lit room as it snows outside. This feeling is exactly how I believe a poem should live in a body. Moreover, it’s how I wish our bodies might be free to live in the world.
But our world is seldom that simple, and the demands on our attention are real, often important, meaningful, necessary. So how do we hold in tension the somehow precious busyness and messiness and chaos of a life, and the significance of that almost spiritual yearning for stillness? I tend to find it in a Pause.