A Writer's Notebook, Day Five-Hundred--And-Eighty-Five

One of the questions that I keep facing, each day of late, and which I know I have already spoken of here, but it remains the big question: how to continue as a writer now, with things as they are.  It feels, on one hand, almost silly, or, at least, besides the point.  A poem will not matter in the pandemic.  It just won't.  But, at the same time, not allowing the virus to take even that from me feels a valid, even important, response.  It is an affirmation in the face of the existential threat of the coronavirus.   But, I still have to discover, for myself, what it means to be writing now, in this time.  I cannot turn my gaze from the world, but it is also hard to know just what there is to say at such a time.  I have to hope that by keeping to my work, I will discover those answers.

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