Where the Wind Blows
There is something in the wind
—something in the rain
That makes go out alone in night
Which makes appear the entrance of luminous silver, rimmed
Something which makes excitedly insane
That makes fly away: its freedom makes feel light
This poem was thought up while I was feeling the wind of Autumn. I watched it eagerly pick up the leaves and carry them away. I wondered where it was blowing me.
‘Where the Wind Blows’ began as a Quatrain; I decided that it was not long enough to describe imagination, where it takes one, and how it has an effect on its vessel—whatever or whoever that may be. I decided to simply not include the narrator or subject: I feel that this contributes to this poem creatively by making it be read in more of the excited wild outburst which imagination causes one to make in their work, and by making the poem more open to interpretation because of its ambiguity. Because it is made up of sentence fragments, and the subjects are missing, whoever reads this poem will also need to use their imagination to decide who or what the fragments are referring to.