In my latest post on The Master’s Artist, entitled “The Sound of the City,” I describe how walking through New York City can lead to poetry. An excerpt:
When I finally get to the building where I’ll spend the next eight or so hours, I sit down and right my thoughts down quickly, pinning them down, praying they don’t fly away as the tasks of the day begin to circle and descend. And a fragment of poetry is born, and will be nurtured over the coming days, months years.