Here’s an exercise which I call Jumping into the Mud although it’s sometimes called by the more prosaic name automatic writing. The exercise helps to loosen my imagination, and sometimes a decent poem results as well.
The novel takes a hard look at how children who endure growing up in dysfunctional families, suffer dire consequences and are left to a lifetime of personal struggles.
We weren’t a talking family
especially when it came
to discussing why I locked myself
in the bathroom upstairs
This was our childhood.
We were all left
to scavenge the woods