Would That I Might

 I received another rejection letter tonight, and it is making me spiral into that same negative space again, and is not at all good for me or my relationships or any other aspect of my life, but I do not have any way that I can find to alter it, and the only thing that I can think of that is worse than feeling like this is feeling guilty for it, but that does not change the reality that it is untenable for me to continue as I am.  I do have any solutions, I only know that the current state is not one I can remain in.  I've said it before, but I am truly understanding now the notion that this kind of stagnation, of repeating the same actions in hopes of a new result, is a recipe for madness.  I don't know what I can do about it, really, and I am attempting to not get into that same spiral of analysis, discussing what does not work or why, because has done nothing at all.  I am just at a point where I know I need a change, or this will explode in some negative way.  I wish I cou

I Tell Myself It Was An Accident It happened fast, was not my intention, (I do not think it was my intention), it was so fast, the boy running, me walking, the boy ran into me.  It was not anything I did, no, I did not do it, he ran into me, into it (the fist), yes, I did not punch a child, no, I would not punch a child, not at all, it was just an accident, that boy, why would I punch some boy who just ran into me, no, I did not do that, it was not a thing I would ever do, it was all his fault running into me that way, and I hope he was alright afterwards, hope his tears did not last too much longer after, because I could not stay, I was in a hurry, I had no time to worry about a crying boy I did not even know, would not ever see again.

The imprecision of language is an inherent quality of how it functions.  Each word is a symbol with meanings that are agreed upon, but that communal understanding has a certain degree of variation from one person to another.  This is nothing of a revelation.  It is a common consideration to ask whether what any of us experience as a specific color or sound is the same as what another experiences in relation to the same stimulus.  Even more, we know that each word carries meaning as part of the specific language map of the individual who is interpreting it.  The word apple might, in the same context, bring up an image of the fall of man or of a student giving a gift to their teacher, or just a nice piece of fruit eaten earlier today.  In using language, their is a large degree to which the meaning of what is created for a reader cannot be controlled. At the same time, a writer is taught to be specific, to add detail and make each description evocative of a specific image.  In truth, tho

Tomorrow They Are to Come That is what we are told, that they will arrive tomorrow with the morning itself: make certain it is prepared, the space is open so they may begin without impediment, for they do not come any day or every day, but tomorrow they will, that is what we are told, and we must be ready, if they do come this time it is so important we be ready.

 It is difficult to keep motivated at the moment.  In some ways, it is an act of resistance in the face of the consistent rejections I am receiving, but it also can feel like a waste, like throwing more energy in on something that is not working.  I feel like it is dumb of me to keep doing the same things and expecting anything to change, and that includes the writing itself, at times.  Today, I did my work, but it was not with any level of excitement, and I didn't have a sense of accomplishing anything.  It is not to say that the work itself was not, while I was engaged, interesting and absorbing, but it was not easy to get started and after, any spark of creative fulfillment faded rapidly.  I know I need to make a change, that I cannot just keep doing this and waiting.  I only wish I could figure out what I can do, because I do not know any options besides what I am doing now and quitting, and if feeling that I am failing is bad, quitting and accepting that as reality would be fa

Rising  What started it and when did it begin, how, and who was it?  It is too late now, is too long since it began to prevent  what is coming, but it would be good to know, to learn how we came here, and maybe hope those responsible will meet justice if only in the eyes of history.

 The idea for my new story is shaping up.  It is interesting how the ideas I had already when I began, which were, as I said, largely about the start of the story, the inciting event of it and the general tone and setting, but the plot and characters were a bit less clear.  Now, I have a sense of the story on a larger level, but am still waiting for it to come into focus.  Their are numerous ideas that are coming together, some of which I had already been playing with, though I did not think they would fit in this story, and others that are new or which are variations on concepts I've played with but never considered in a specific story.  It is becoming a much more science-fiction piece when I had thought it would be fantasy, and I have a sense that the story has a real thrust to it, not only in terms of what I know, but in the subtext beneath it.  It feels like it will be a very interesting piece, but I am still at the start and have yet to figure out many of the specifics but the

What Is to Be Said when it is this way and it looks as though it will not be better, that things have changed in ways that will remain, and the dangers that seemed impossible were always there, but they seemed impossible until now, it was clear this could not be about to happen, was impossible so long it was easy to ignore until it was clear it had become the likely outcome?

 I began a new story tonight, though it is a bit tenuous at present and I am not certain what is coming.  There is a general idea of the plot, or at least the start of it, but I am not certain about all the details even of the character(s) yet, and started more with a sense of setting than anything else.  I am considering a few possibilities for the story and I am certain that one will sort itself to the top by the time I am back to work tomorrow.  Or it will not, and I will need to find a new solution or will discover I had another idea in mind already.  It is strange how often it can be difficult to know what the work will be until it begins to unfold, even when I do have a clear sense of the work at core. One of the issues in my mind right now is how to apply much of my deeper thinking in my work.  This is both to do with the textual aspects, and with the political concepts that underlie much of my thinking, especially with this nation in such a state.  I think many would look at a

 It Is Lost Now or is no longer in the world at all, I do not know, but it did exist, it was real and was here, but it is gone, and I do not know where it has gone, what can be done to restore it, I can only hope to find it again, or maybe another I will think is the same, since nothing remains to compare it with. 

 I am taking it a bit easy tonight.  I will admit that I am not fully comfortable with the choice.  Partly, it is driven by my not being certain what to write at the moment, as I finished one story last night and am yet to conceive of the next.  I have a few ideas, but all of them feel a bit unready or otherwise seem off.  I wrote my poetry this morning, and I think I am going to wait to work on fiction tomorrow.  If I don't have any thoughts at that time, I'll sit down and free write or something until I find a place to start.   While my decision is driven, in part, by the lack of a current piece in progress or an idea to start on, I am also choosing to stop early because it is Melissa's birthday.  I want to be able to balance things better, and getting done early tonight feels like a good way to move in that direction.  It is an attempt to be a bit flexible in order to accommodate the important parts of being a person.   I'm not going to get into it again, but for thi

Always The Same Complaint What is there I can do at all to change it and if I cannot why do you keep asking me, telling me?  It is  not my problem, I do not wish to hear it again, even if you are suffering, have been suffering all along, and it keeps going, that problem is not one I made and I do not feel at all responsible, even if I could help, I do not see why your being hurt is a matter I should rectify, not if it means I must take action or change anything that I am happy about or need to think or act in any way that I do not choose to already, without needing to consider the consequences.

 I completed work on the first draft of the story I have been writing.  I'm not certain about what to begin next, to be honest, but I am glad to be done with this piece.  It is over twenty pages, which is long for a story, but I do not think it quite crosses into the novella length yet.  I want to look at my short stories together and see how much length their is in that collection at the moment.  I do not believe I am at anything close to a book, but I want to consider how long it is and have an idea of what to do with it as a set of stories.  I think it has enough connection in theme, but thinking on the issue of a collection may help me to consider what I want to write next in order to add to the work.  The story I just finished plays with ideas that I also explored in other work, especially my novel, but it takes a very different direction in most every other way.  At present, my biggest concern is whether it all fits together as a piece, since the end is rather odd and their i

I Have A Question I do not want to ask, not you, not at all, because I do not know if you will care or be sympathetic to me, and I, I shelled but shelled like an egg, am shelled to be strong in this way, but it is a brittle power that can shatter, and if I ask you may answer with the force of a hammer or might cast me towards the wall, the floor, the ceiling, across the sky itself. The answer you hold may be the truth or it may not be  the truth, but  it may be too much if what you say is not at all an answer I need or can take, if it leaves me as lost as one who has no answer or tells me  what I believe is all wrong, is lies, or that their is nothing but what I know already and I cannot learn anything better, despite the failings that my knowledge allows or, maybe, provides, or you may just be mean because you can choose that and it happens that people do, and I want an answer, but only one that I want to hear, not any other type, just a good one that lets me know I am right, otherwis

 I have been thinking a lot about the act of titling a work recently.  Part of this is due to working on a chapbook that contains a number of poems that were not given titles at the time of writing, which is, itself, a result of the fact that I often find adding titles to be a difficult thing.  I also want to acknowledge that my friend Freesia McKee has expressed an interest in this topic, as well, which has encouraged me to consider titles in more and deeper ways.  She mentioned a poem from a student where a shift in the title suddenly turned the piece from a mediocre poem into an incredible and affecting one, without any other changes to the work.  I know that often I dash titles off, or just use what had been the first line, and I recognize this as a result of a certain fear, and I think that fear is a product, in turn, of an uncertainty about titling. In exploring this issue, I've come to a question that I think is quite essential, and is about the issue of what a title does, w

In The Beginning There Was A Duck That was all: just a duck, not anything else, not even ducks, just one of them, though it was big and might be called smart for a duck, but even so, there was only just one duck, the rest, that comes much later, but the question of how it came, of how a duck made the rest, that is not answered, perhaps it never will be.

 I am continuing to get work done early, and am eager to start increasing the output again, if I can continue this spree tomorrow.  In some way, it feels that beginning to do more work might help cement the habit, somewhat, as if taking a next step will require the first to remain solid.   In terms of the work that I did today, I do feel that my poetry is in an interesting place right now.  I find it hard, at the moment, to feel all that enthused about the writing itself, especially having received another rejection today.  I need to figure out what to do about this, and I am not doing well at maintaining any sort of mental balance with it, if I am honest.  I feel quite hopeless, though I do continue, but it is not at all healthy for me, and any efforts I make to alter my perspective come up to the hard wall of the reality that I won't feel better without taking some step to change things for the better.  I've attempted to put a different perspective on it, but that is not help

The Answers We Are Prepared to Offer Those are not the questions that are asked by people when they come  to ask me questions, and I do not enjoy answering questions that are not the ones I am prepared to answer, it is far too dangerous to allow questions and questioning,  it causes trouble, but if you wish I will give you answers for the questions I want asked, or someone else can ask them instead.

 I have been managing to get my work started early this week, waking up and writing poetry first thing, and tonight, I have managed to complete all my work by a rather reasonable time.  I may not get this posted until after eleven, but that is quite early for me in any case.  If I can keep to this for a few more days, I will need to begin increasing the output again.  I do not know how far I will go with that at the moment, but I know how much work I've been able to do on a regular basis in the past and feel driven to get back towards that.  I am going to keep this short tonight, as I have a chance to get to bed early for once, which I think will be a rather nice change.

Attitude Makes The Difference I do not want  to be here or to do this, but I have come because you asked, but do not think I will pretend it is anything but an imposition, that coming here is a great effort because you know I do not want anything I will find while I am here, but it is your choice, so I hope you enjoy forcing me  to come here for your birthday.

 One of the things which always fascinates me as a writer is the question of the reader's experience with a text, and of how the phenomenology of reading can become a channel for added communication.  In considering this, I've become quite interested in the question of meta-fiction, and have very particularly found myself exploring the theatrical notions of Epic Theatre.  I am most familiar with the work of Brecht in this realm, and my reading is still beginning, but much of what I am considering is related to notions of those aspects of theater designed to break the fourth wall, and how that is not the same as what is often done in fiction, where what often occurs is the character experiencing their own existence as within a fictional work.  In the Brechtian usage, these techniques intend to break aspects of the theatrical experience, to deflate the works by revealing artificiality and illusion, but how does one emulate this in text?  The character who addresses the reader doe

You Are Eager to reach the next town, but I am less certain that it will be the place we have been seeking, am not as optimistic that what was not right where we have been was only there, or if it is the same everywhere else, but I would not have left if I were sure: I hope, but it is not so simple for me to trust it.

 Despite the current hour, I did get to work early today, and wrote my poems this morning.  As well, I think I had a real breakthrough on that story.  I am still not finished, but I think the pieces are coming together, and I felt that I got through a certain amount of the most difficult material.  It seems very close, and I am quite pleased so far, though I still wonder if it is a bit uneven as a piece right now, but some of the problems in it seem to be things that could only be fixed in revision, when a clearer sense of the whole is attained.   I received another rejection today and sent out several new packets as well.  Most of it is work that I had sent out before, but I am attempting to keep what hope I can, and the fact that it feels meaningless at the moment doesn't change the reality that the only action I am certain I can take right now is submitting again and again.  I just wish I had a sense that I was making progress in doing that, or that I had some action I could tak

Is It Only A Mirror? I do not understand what you want to communicate, am stuck here on the outside of your meaning, but I hope you at least understand what I am saying, and that you are not busy shouting that you do not understand me.

 I once more got to work early today, writing my poems first thing after getting up.  I'm hoping to keep that routine for a while, though I do recognize the difficulty I've had is not gone, but I have been successful three of the last four days, so I am also hoping that the new habit is developing.  I'm aware that getting my writing started early makes a difference in my day, both practically and mentally.  I certainly feel that I have accomplished something when I write, though that feeling is somewhat dampened these days, both because I'm not getting published and because I have been doing it each day for a long time now.  While that is a boon, the practice itself has a value for me, and doing it in the morning brings out those resources earlier in the day, which is beneficial itself.  It is an important thing for me to get myself back into that habit, and I am attempting to be more aware of the advantages it provides me, so, perhaps, it might help motivate me in deci

They Said To Walk Here All the maps and signs, the guidebooks, the guides I spoke with, everyone said this was the path, pointed this way,  but I have arrived and it cannot be that this is the place that they all meant, because there is nothing here, not a path at all, not any place to walk, it is empty and dark and not a place, it is only an edge, if I were to cross it I do not know where I would be walking or what place this is, but perhaps they knew I needed a walk that would be a challenge, or it may be they wished I would leap in and be gone. It is impossible to know, but I was told to walk here, I was told again and again this was the place that I needed to go in order to make my journey, asked trusted advisors, experts, friends, anyone who might have input that I could value, and all said to come here, but what do I do now when here is nothing but an emptiness, when I do not know if I can even walk once I have entered?

 I did not get to work as early as I would have liked, but I was done with the majority of my work relatively early.  It is late, of course, now, but that is a result of my having taken time in between writing my poetry and working on fiction tonight.  I am still in the midst of that same story, and I feel that their are a few small thing which need to come into complete focus to bring the ending together.  I'm sensing it, but the details are still not all in place yet, and so it is coming along at a slow pace, but I recognize this may be necessary for the process of this story right now.  I am still writing two poems at the moment, and that is far fewer than I had been writing.  While I am driven to increase that again, I'm also not upset at the present rate, especially since I do have so much work ready to go.  I am still feeling rather frustrated by the difficulties I'm having getting work published, and writing can, at times, help with that, or contribute to it.  On one

It Will Be Quiet Now but it will be the wrong type of quiet, not gentle, round silences but sharp and jagged absence.  It will be so quiet, the sounds you remember will ring loud in your ears, the sounds  of what was that is no more that you wish to hear but not in memory.

 I got to work earlier in the day again, though once more it was only some of my work for the day.  It is still quite difficult to get motivated, as I've been contemplating the same issues over and over, about the difficulties I am having with getting anything published at the moment, and a large part of what is troubling me at the moment is the desire to be able to have a real conversation and get some sort of insight.  I don't think it is unreasonable for me to think that I should have, in the time I spent being educated in my art, learned the skills necessary to have a professional career.  In all the workshops I have attended, I have not had anyone point to issues in my poetry that are overarching and would prevent it from being published.  To the contrary, I've had a great deal of encouragement, and I do not believe I would have made the choice to focus on writing in the way I have if not for the mentors who supported my endeavors and convinced me I had a talent worth

You Wonder Why I Am Upset You chose to do the thing that you were told not to do, and lied, saying it was not at all what was done, disguised it, pretended you had acted as appropriate, as had been promised, as was agreed upon, and now you are made at my upset, tell me I am being ridiculous to have expected anything different, because it was easier to do what you wanted and my requirements were not anything you cared about, did not deserve your respect.  Why would I be mad about any of it unless I was unreasonable and expected you to show me you cared enough to listen to my needs.

 While it is late, and I am still completing my work for today, I am also pleased to say that I got to work early today.  This morning, just after waking, I came up to my office and began to work on some new poems.  I did not do all my work at that time, but the point was not to get all my work done at once, early in the day, at least not for the moment.  I want to rebuild my routine, and today was the first in a long while when I went to work that early.   In addition to my usual writing, I also sent out several new submissions.  It is nice to have my active submissions a bit higher than my rejections, but the feeling that I am just setting myself up for more is very present when I am sending out the work.  It will be a real shock to me when I finally do receive an acceptance, at this point, considering how pessimistic my experiences have made me at this point.  I know that I need to change this, and it does not seem possible to do that in any way that is positive, though I am not goi

This Way Is Best for Me I am told other ways  are easier, but the people who tell me have different ideas of what is easy, do not recognize where the problems lie for me, assume I am the same, could not be choosing what is best, are certain they know better my own experience, that it cannot be what they suggest is not simple for me, no, it must be I am making it up or just stubborn: it cannot be that I know what is true in my life better than they do;  not if it is different from what they know.

 It is clear, I did not get work done earlier in the day today, and I recognize that I had opportunities to work that I did not take.  I need to find a stronger level of motivation, and that is quite difficult at times.  While I am committed to not allowing myself to fail in my writing responsibility each day, I am also still feeling rather uncertain about my work.  I received another rejection today, and I am always a bit shaken by that.  Their is a point at which I need to wonder what is wrong, and I am willing to question my own work in that capacity, but I am not certain what is not working, especially as those I show my writing outside of this context are generally quite positive.  I recognize that some of this may be polite, but their is also a degree to which I need to believe the other poets and writers who I have studied under and with whom I work.  They are good judges of work themselves, and it does not seem reasonable to assume that they would lie to me about the quality of

Questions of Necessity Is it possible the need is for what is not possible at all or is it an illusion that it is a need or instead, is it an illusion it is not at all possible, or is it a need that should be possible but will not be filled though it is necessary, because it will not be done, not for any reason except it is left to be unanswered without any question?

 I got myself to start work far earlier in the day, including a bit of writing this morning and more in the afternoon.  Though I did not get all the writing I intended done for the day until tonight, I am quite pleased.  It often can be best to make changes slowly, instead of attempting to change it all at once, and though I still am writing now, it is far earlier than it might have been otherwise.   In terms of the writing today, I continued work on the short story, and I have a sense that I am quite close to the climax, and am beginning to have a strong sense of the way much of it will be revealed.  The poems I wrote today also seemed to be moving me towards work I am wanting to do.  I have been considering a larger poetry project of late, and I feel that much of the work I am doing at the moment is in the direction of that concept, even if not yet there in total, as I do not have the specific ideas for the piece in mind yet.  I am still putting together the overall concept before I

You May Not Be Unburdened Before you speak what you wish to and tell me of the secret you wish to disclose, I must explain my own secret, as it will change what you must say, because my secret is the knowledge that you have no secret, only that my knowing what you think is your secret has remained my secret, but it was not intended that I should know and I did not seek to learn it, and stayed silent because it was best not to divulge that I had gained knowledge which might seem to violate you, but now you want to speak what you wished before for me to not know, and I must make clear it was my secret, for so long it has been a secret I have carried.

 It is clear from the time of this posting that I was not able to get myself working earlier in the day.  That is something I am not glad about, but I am also aware that feeling a great shame or guilt over the issue would only make it harder to deal with the actual issue.  It is not a moral failing, it is simply a matter of getting myself on a better schedule, and I need to recognize that practical issue as separate from any guilt I might feel associated with the habit of not writing.  I spent a long time feeling guilt that I was not writing enough, and that was what wound up keeping me from doing more work, to a large extent.  There were, of course, other issues, but the guilt itself became a negative association with writing, and it was easier to ignore the issue altogether.  It is reasonable, of course, to feel a certain guilt at not writing, but that became a trap, and it is better to forgive that part of things and move forward to deal with the real problems that underlie the guil

Baggage Why do I still carry so many things that are unneeded and only wear me with their weight, small bits collecting from this whole life, long ago moments that could not change and are not worth the repetition of the mind, it will not matter if the right words could be found, it is no good now knowing that choice would be better than what was made, or who will be the ones bringing hurt, none of that will change, it is no good to hold it so, but that is not to leave it all and be no one, their is a way to know the past, their must be a way of learning that is not holding and remaining, is recognizing that to learn one moves beyond what was known then and is glad for it, but without wishing to go back again and be better or do better or change the way it was, but how to put down what the hands have held for so long, have grasped with fingers that ache at holding but have calcified, will not let loose, would need to be pried away, unless it is possible to find a way for them to rememb

I did not manage to get to work earlier, as might be clear from the timing of this post.  I'm going to attempt to get a post done earlier tomorrow, and I hope that will help to give me some sense of accountability.  The fact that I am still writing each day is a good base to build off of, and I am certain that by getting myself working earlier, I will be able to get myself back into a more productive mode, and I think it's an important thing for me to commit to this.  Even if it does not immediately result in a shift in the output, I know it will help me in other ways as well, in terms of my work/life balance, for example.  It has been a long while since I was really on a routine, even though I was continuing my extreme output, but it was developing that schedule to begin with that got me on this path at all.

Destination In the night, we drove along the road towards a city we did not know, but the road was dark, the right signs easy to miss, and the places we found never the ones expected, but we had not been where we planned to go, and it seemed as if the night would be the same anywhere, so we just continued until we found the dawn and saw the places we had discovered, watched the sun meet them as morning crept over the land, found we had arrived in a place, or decided where we were must have been our destination, even before we knew.

 I think that I am going to focus on getting myself to do more work earlier in the day.  It feels that this will be a good way to begin moving back towards a more productive schedule.  For a long time, I was writing in the morning, as one of the first things I did when I woke up, but that has become difficult to continue.  The truth is, I was getting up early to care for Ulysses, who needed medicine at eight each morning, and that has made the early morning a more difficult time for me.  I need to get over that association, but it is quite difficult, and the fact that I had used my responsibilities to Ulysses as a motivator to get other work done has caused a lot of conflict in getting back to a similar schedule.  I kept working, but would allow work to accumulate until late and then finish it in a burst before going to bed.  That led into the issues that caused me, more recently, to slow down my writing overall, and I think the best way to resolve this is to get myself back to working

They Say This Is How There must be other choices that are not clear, other ways things might be arranged or enacted, other options for how to respond, to react, though they are not clear, are hidden away, can only be discovered by wandering off from the well-trodden path, but everyone says, it is best to walk this way, to stay where other feet have trod, where there is a path already, but it may well be that looking where others have been, following the ways already known and so well travelled will be impossible, but learn to look beyond what has been prepared to see what can be, to find a way beyond the obstacle that is the right approach.

 I am still not writing at the same rate I had been, and I am not certain how I feel about that overall.  It is nice to have the feeling of producing at a greater rate, and I am glad to know I have the capacity for such prolific work, but it is also nice to step back a bit and take more time to consider what I am doing.  As well, their is still the feeling that it is a waste to create all this when I can't get anything published, though I know that is not a helpful perspective.  It is far better if I can think of it in terms of a body of work that I will have, no matter where I am in the publishing aspect of my career.  The work is there and waiting, and I believe it has value, though it is not yet recognized.  I also know I was driving myself insane by not doing the work in a more organized way.  I'm not great at managing time, and the end result becomes that I created process where I just have an amount of work and a deadline, but I need to change that so I am doing more work

It Is Not Danger The things here are not at all as they seem to be, are nothing that should be feared, though they are loud and look strange, though it is dark, it is all illusions, is just deception, it is only ducks in strange costumes attempting to stay safe through hunting season.

 I am finally getting to the last bit of the story I am writing.  It may be a few more sessions, but I know that I am entering that last act, since a character has arrived who I know signals the stories end.  The excitement I feel at the moment about how events are unfolding, and about the strange world of the story itself, all of it feels quite different than I had expected in ways that are very rewarding.  At the same time, I am also aware, as I write this piece, of certain qualities in my work that I want to develop, and areas that I think I am weak in, when it comes to fiction.  I have a great deal of understanding about things on a certain technical level as a writer, but the truth is that their are many aspects to writing, and I have not always concerned my efforts with all of them.  At present, I am considering how I can explore certain aspects of character, and of how to develop relationships in a work of fiction.  Many of the pieces I write are based around a very tight perspe

Doing Was Not Enough so it seemed reasonable to attempt not doing, since it was possible that was appropriate and was the other option besides continuing to do, but not doing did nothing, which is unsurprising since it is, indeed, doing nothing, but it had seemed worth trying, given the circumstances. Now, though, what was left if both doing and not doing did not work, unless there was some way to not do while doing or do while not doing, but how could that be, though it seemed all  that could be left, what else was there besides doing and not doing? What else but both at once?

I spent a lot of time today considering the idea for that new collection I mentioned, and I think I am getting a better grasp on it, though I am not certain yet, as some of the ideas are convoluted as a result of their being sort of interconnected and recursive.  It gets difficult to lay down what the basics for an idea when it is not just a single, straight line, but I am beginning to understand it in a deeper way. It also seems clear that things in that story are progressing in new and interesting ways.  The direction still feels in line with ideas I had about what was coming, but things are exaggerating and warping in ways I had not expected, but which are moving the narrative forward in a way that I had not anticipated, yet it is all within the concepts I had been considering, and seems to build on details and concepts I didn't realize I was seeding in the work already.  It is a strange process, and I keep writing about it because that kind of magical moment where things line u

 It Would Be Nice to Write about the taste of the sun, or the color of the light as it reflects off my dreams in the morning, or even what music is right to describe your hand, each finger as it curls against my own, and I should write that, but I saw the news, wonder how I can focus on what is here between us, in this place where we have stayed together through the pandemic, on you and I, on writing poems about this, our life, when I see the world around us and wonder if it is wrong to want to speak instead of beauty, or is it important to keep focused upon what remains now that we must preserve when we have a chance to make and be the world again.

 I am feeling quite good about the direction of my work at the moment.  First, the story is taking off again, though I am still taking my time with it.  The shape of the ending is becoming much clearer to me, and it is also apparent that their is more to happen which will allow the conclusion to land.  It is often a journey to discover the way that a story shapes up, and I am quite intrigued at the way this one is twisting about.  I did, as I said, feel a bit lost with it for a few, but slowing down and appreciating the journey itself has provided me a way to connect with the work.  I think the biggest problem is stressing on the idea that I do not know where I am going or what to do next.  It is a matter of trusting the story to come, and believing that it may already be prepared even if I do not know the entirety of it yet.  I often have a sense of it coming together, which I've discussed before, and which I can't say is planned, but which is also a clear culmination of even

New Tools It may be that it is time to put theses back in the places they reside when not in use, because these were made long ago, may not be suited to the purpose of today, or may show wear, lack durability at their current age. Let them rest, and let us instead make for ourselves what we require for ourselves today instead of using what is worn, broken, what would be unsuitable to our needs even in perfect order.

 It was another busy day, and I did not get as much writing done as I would like, but I did send out a number of new packets, which is an important act itself.  I wish I could get a lot more work out, if I am honest, if only to have more chances.  I keep being told to send out more work and that it is just odds, and at the very least sending more out gets me more chances.  It is not a particularly optimistic way of seeing it, to be honest, but I am dedicated, at least, to keeping going.  I think tomorrow should be a less hectic day, so I am hoping to get more work done, though I am also aware that, even in the time since I've complained that I have been writing too little, I still produced a small chapbooks worth of poems, so I am keeping it in perspective.  I would love to be writing a lot more poems each day, but I know that is not the mark of quality or a real measure, it is more that I am aware I have been giving my writing a bit less of my attention, and that is not a bad thin

I Can Fix It All I have a great many of the solutions anyone could desire, the answers  to the problems of the world, have spent my life accumulating understanding and delving into those issues others find impossible, and I know the paths we could forge to move forwards and make tomorrow a day we all awaken smiling with our awareness of the better world we have made. Yes, I know how to solve those things that keep us back, that harm and hinder the progress we could make, I have the answers to all those problems, I have solved them all, but no one asks me and I have yet to find any way to solve for that.

It is quite late and I only wrote five poems today.  I was a bit distracted, as I had other obligations to attend, but I wanted to get more work done.  I feel that I made a bit of a breakthrough for the story, though it is still coming slowly.  I was finding myself having a bit of trouble because I was sort of between things.  I know what is coming, but I am not their yet, and things need to happen, but what is coming is not dependent on those things happening at this moment, which makes it difficult to be certain what would work.  It needs to be important to the story, but is not integral to that aspect of the plot, so that poses a challenge.  I am not wanting to just throw an event in that is not relevant just to keep the story moving along, but that is kind of where I am in the plot at the moment.  Tonight, a lot of that began to clear up for me, as I found a direction for the current moment in the story that feels interesting and unexpected, but also relates to a great deal of what

To Keep The Newness of The Day If I rise  when dawn is still a line to be crossed, can I find a way to walk with it, to keep company with the place where night is always at its end?

I wrote ten new poems today, and I think much of the work connects well to the idea I have been considering.  The idea is quite complicated, and I do not yet have a clear understanding of all of it, but it has to do with concepts of identity and with notions of metaphor and symbolism in a sort of fantastical way.  I think their is a narrative element to it, but I am not yet sure about that.  It feels that it may be important for me to first write a whole bunch of things and get closer to the actual idea first. It is not a straightforward idea, but I am thinking of it in a sort of "magic" lens, as if I am constructing something intended as a spell-book or something, at least within the conceptual reality of the book itself.  I am not certain what that means yet, but the idea feels as if it may take me in an interesting direction.  In terms of a structure, I think it will have a sort of narrative, as I said, but I think their will also be other elements that connect together to

Many People Do Nothing Even when it is not good and they do not agree or would not  if it were them, but it is not them and they do not want to be the ones  who lose, do not think it will ever be them, and so they say nothing, watch and watch, and one day they know they must not speak because it is now too late for anything but their own time to be the target no one defends.

I did begin to push myself again today, though it was not anything close to the twenty poems I had been writing.  The point, however, was not to immediately return to that level of productivity, but to get myself back on a more defined schedule.  I wrote five poems today, as well as my fiction work, and it seemed rather easy, if I am honest.  It was harder to get myself to do the work than to actually do it.  I think tomorrow, I will be able to push myself further.  It was more a matter of starting than anything. I'm aware, as well, that I have added fiction to the routine and that this impacts the overall work.  It is a balance, as all things are, and I know that their needs to be a certain flexibility, since I approach fiction a bit differently than poetry.  It is not often that I will not write a first draft of a poem in a single setting, but that is not always possible with fiction, so, while I am writing fiction each day, the amount varies greatly.  Of course, the size of a po

A Shared Question There may be explanations of why it is this way and not so different this would seem absurd, a world unrecognizable but which functions as well as our own, within which, this place is as inconceivable as that one seems, but the question of why it is one way may be the thing that remains the same, that can connect even things so different as to never be capable of even allowing the conception of the other.

I had another less productive day, but I do feel that I am prepared to get myself more in gear tomorrow.  I think I am going to see how far I get in that regard, not necessarily set a number of poems to start with, but see how I do.  It has been good to give myself a bit of time to recharge, but it is starting to push me towards not working at all, and that scares me.  I am going to keep this short tonight, as it is already quite late, but I think that tomorrow will be a good day to get myself back into gear once more.

Something Has Come to Nest Inside It would not have taken up this perch were it not appropriate, were the heart not already hollow, dried out, disused. Do not complain that what has come, has gone inside and grows there, is the cause: it grows there because this place was prepared for it.

It has been a strange day, waiting and preparing for the hurricane which has not really come.  It is often that way.  My fiance and I were discussing how she had friends ask about her fear of moving down here into an area prone to hurricanes from New York.  This was after Sandy, and she couldn't help but think that more storms had hit up north than down here in the time we had been dating.  That is not to say that we have never gotten an actual storm, but much of the time it has been a lot of preparation and nothing much has come of it.  Anyhow, most of today was spent doing things in order to be prepared, but I did get some writing done as well, both in terms of the story I've been working on and my poetry.  I think I am ready to start pushing myself again, and am hoping to get myself back onto a more rigorous writing schedule Monday.

What Has Changed Some of the places that you have gone are not there any longer, and some remain but would not seem at all the same, and others are the same but still feel different, the surface all that retains that familiarity.  Some may be the same but you will not know, will be certain it has changed. It is not a matter of what has changed that you can notice, it is so many years, it may be your memories have changed, or it may be more, may be how you see or feel.  It may be different, but it may be you instead.