A Writer's Notebook, Day Three-Hundred-And-Eighty-Two

I will be, once more, keeping this short, I expect, as today has been another long and difficult day, but I am glad to say that I feel quite good about a lot of the work I am doing right now.  I mean, in some ways, many of the poems still exist within a certain personal sphere, but as I have said, writing so much, even at my most self-indulgent, with vane absorption in my own problems at the forefront of my thoughts, it is not likely that even a day will pass without some transformation in how my work is reflecting that mood, or else it may entirely drop it and move in an unexpected direction.  Often this is the most delightful surprise for me.  As an example, the poem I posted tonight, The Magic Cocktail Onion, is one that came out from just wanting to do something in a different mood and key than much of what I have written of late.  It is a bit of a silly poem, in some ways, and it is not saying much that is really all that new, if I am honest, but writing it took me out of a certain mode and allowed me to access certain qualities of my writing that I was glad to find returning even when I am feeling down.

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