It’s been a slow week. Sultry with occasional thunder. The (grown) kids made their way back out into the wider world, snubbing caution. Hoping for the best. Three of my visual poems also went out this week in Ghost Proposal: The Power, This Book and Some Beginning. I’m happy to have these out, mostly made … Read more
I have planted a tree. I have upgraded my prayer to supplication.
I got up the next morning with the feeling of having had a bad dream that you’ve forgotten except for the fright of it. I didn’t recall the jolt or ever opening my eyes. But when I got to work one of my colleagues asked if I’d felt the earthquake.
How I’ve felt through the past weeks, watching everyone react in different ways to politics and inequality and ideas.
My father has always been a faithful journal keeper and he says when he goes back to peruse old journals it isn’t thoughts or feelings that interest him. He’s more engaged by what he had for lunch or if a stranger told him his fly was open or if he visited a friend. So I’m sticking with the quotidian.
