It seems prudent to write about writing on vacation. I say, DON'T DO IT. In your canvas chair you'll sit in the mountains or by the sea thinking He Who made them and the lamb and the tyger will speak and that finally you'll hear Him in the voice of that beloved dead uncle you never met whom you've been listening for for years and years. In the words of Sherman Potter, "Bullcookies"! If it's not happening at home where you live and move and have your being it's not going to happen in Chatham or the Great Smokey Mountains or on the shores of Gitchigoomie.
Take your journals, your pens, your crappy attitude toward your in-laws who will visit and leave their wet towels on your canvas chair and write every day but don't expect much and don't expect a breakthrough, to be struck by lightning, to see the white buffalo or the black swan. Sleep, swim, tan, nearly drown, hike yourself breathless, get poison ivy, drink, smoke 'em if you got 'em but don't expect that cat named Kalamazoo to say a mumblin' word.
Empty your head, change it, abandon yourself to lesser things for a while. Your mind will work in the background, the unconscious, the subconscious as it always does. Your're a goddamned poet. You can't stop it. But you can't start it either. Back at home where the lawn needs mowing, where you need to give a spoonrest from Provincetown to the neighbor who (may have) fed the cats and cleaned the litter boxes at least once and the dryer is getting noisy and the 800 number caller from Newark DE is looking for your late car payment IS WHERE YOU WORK IS GROUNDED. Somehow the poems live there in that stupid place you need a vacation from.
I urge you (& myself) to learn to write wherever you are. I also urge you (& myself) to abandon the notion that your magnum opus will arrive at a temporary address during that very week you've chosen to get away from it all when the poems are in it all.
PS I'm happy to be back and will be on vacation from the 7th through the 14th. I will not have internet access and will not post during that time. And, I will not write anything worth reading in between lobsters (although I actually did once but that took a dying sister to change the equation and I don't think she'll do it again).
Really, I'm back. See you later.