A Writer's Notebook, Day Six-Hundred-And-Two

I often feel that I am writing the same poem again and again, which is not a strange thing for a poet, but it feels intensified by the current crisis.  It would be easy to feel that is just reiteration, that I don't have anything to say, and it may be so.  It is difficult to know what to say, what can be said that is worth saying right now.  But, the only point, the reason, I am stuck with these ideas is because there is something still unsaid, some idea that has not yet been expressed.  It may even be that I am not entirely aware of it, that I will discover it through future work, or it may be about honing the words, making it clear.  It may not be new each time, but it is still moving towards something new.

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