thinking in meter

i'm writing down lists, writing prompts, recipes, books to read and notes from my interview with heidi about her process. i've been writing in cursive and remembering the third grade when i learned how to do that. i'm looking over nick's rules for writing that he scribbled in my journal two weeks ago but i don't know if i'll follow them. he believes in the re-write and i don't. i've been yawning in late morning and listening to the sounds of this old house and the pigeons outside. i've been cross legged on the couch and hearing conversations, holding temptations and being quiet. like gazing across a room and piercing through spaces and people. sitting on the porch with a beautiful view, nighttime, city lights and corner walks. yawning on the couch and not knowing how to end this. wondering what to do with my day, an open ended question that never turns out to be too extraordinary, but hopeful and yawning and cold toe annoyances, watery eyes, long mornings drifting into evenings. looking up poetry rhyme schemes and wondering how i'll ever stick to them, thinking in meter, in iambic pentameter, in fancy wordplay, in nothing at all. just lost in words and definitions, paragraphs, epitaphs, stanzas and quotations. lost in sheets of paper, computer documents with lines of characters, rows of sentences when the meaning's obscure. biting my lip, furrowing my brow, bleeding from my cheekbone; finger frustration. patience. i can't even read and that's what worries me. i need some wine and jazz music with my dad or a long road trip with no destination or some devastating news or music that moves me. i'm not sure. but i need, i need, i need, i need.