Some poems are rooted in longing—not what is but what might have been, what could be. It’s that need, that desire, that drives the poem—possibly to somewhere you weren’t expecting.
Today, write a letter to a place you just passed through. Maybe it was the highway exit you didn’t take. Maybe it was a city where you spent one night. Or it’s an airport where you’ve had layovers but never left the terminal. Maybe you met someone and can write the poem to them specifically.
What do you feel about the place and your fleeting, fragile connection to it? Thinking about Richard Hugo’s The Triggering Town, where does that feeling take you, take the poem?