Poem: I Too Fear
I Too Fear
the pile of mail
that we have not opened.
It has sat there. It sits,
waits. I do nothing.
It is not only you.
It is me as well,
but I will push past,
will deal with it.
It should be simple.
Why isn't it simple?
What is this whole blog thing for anyway?
I am starting this because I said I would. My friend Tim persuaded me, and that was probably a far more difficult and complicated maneuver on his part, that I should start this blog, and I made a commitment that I would, so here I am. Which gives a reason for why this blog exists, but not really much of a purpose for that to lend meaning to that existence, which makes it like a lot of us, I suppose. Of course, there are two purposes to this exercise, though there might only be one at a time, as they are largely about perspective, I think. For instance, right now, a large part of the purpose, for me, is to have the commitment of adding to this blog consistently, as a matter of building the habit of working more steadily. I have built that habit before, but it has always been intermittent, largely driven by situational demands. In college, many years ago, I wrote daily, because I had an audience and because I was in classes that I felt committed to wr...
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