Rain, disappointment, and a bad lunch–all in the distance when I read How to Steal Like an Artist (and 9 Other Things Nobody Told Me).
The point is: all the world’s a stage. You need a stage and you need a costume and you need a script. The stage is your workspace. It can be a studio, a desk, or a sketchbook. The costume is your outfit, your painting pants, or your writing slippers, or your funny hat that gives you ideas. The script is just plain old time. An hour here, or an hour there. A script for a play is just time measured out for things to happen.
which reminds me of my realization that the poem itself can be come a stage, or a theatre, a place you enter when you’re ready to work on it (or play with it).