Would That I Might

As mentioned yesterday, I had jury duty today, and had to be up at the court around eight this morning. I spent most of the day on a panel for a case, but was ultimately dismissed after several hours of questioning, along with most of those who were paneled. A large part of the time was actually just sitting about in the hall waiting for the case to start, or just giving the lawyers and Judge the chance to negotiate things. I think we were standing in the hallway for two or three hours at one point, when we were first called in. This was followed by the main round of questioning from the judge, who went through a bunch of personal history with each juror, to find out about their relationships to law enforcement officers, lawyers, crime itself, and other related topics that might color the ability of an individual to serve as an unbiased juror. I found some of his commentary a bit absurd, in his desire to have a profession seemed to suggest, to me, a need to be certain of whatever ...

You Gave The Meaning to these symbols by how you used them, by the messages that passed through them, but you deny that, wish to use only the symbols you want, now, and without meaning, without the context, as a new language, and tell me to accept it all, to say nothing against it, to not even notice that you have taken away all that had meaning and replaced it with nothing at all. You keep it back. It offends you to even consider any meaning that is not the one you have concocted.

I start jury duty tomorrow, which I recognize can be important, but I am not looking forwards to it.  It is not even the actual thing itself of being a potential juror, but the pain of having to go down to the court and deal with it all.  I have to be there at eight, so I need to leave by seven, I think.  The prospect of such a shockingly early morning did, at least, get me to work early, so that I can get to bed soon.  That is one thing I can say for the system.

Contrary Cases I knew a woman who lived because she failed to wear her seat belt, would never have been freed from the wreckage if she had been strapped in to the car, and a friend of mine nearly died because he glossed his teeth and pressed some rot deeper down, infected his gums and jaw. They cut in and cleaned it out.   He spat pus and blood for days. It is not a clear world, what is good can bring harm, fortune can come of folly. Still, I know many examples of things that have occurred as you would expect, remain an advocate for seat belts and dental flossing.

I need to send out more of my work.  I still have a bunch that is out, but I haven't submitted much in quite a while, despite my continuing to write at a steady pace.  I sent in that short play, but aside from that, I can't recall the last submission I made.  It is a difficult thing for me to do on my own, as I have expressed before.  This is true in a number of ways.  First of all, I find the process and the tasks involved in the literal process of submitting and tracking the responses difficult.  This has caused me a good deal of fear, and I think that has fed my hesitancy in a way that makes me doubt myself in deeper ways.  I am never certain about what work is truly ready, which is, if I think about it, a problem that most writers probably know well, but I am more reticent to trust myself much of the time.  I wonder how much of this is inherent, is a reaction to the work and my general concerns as a poet, and how much is carried over from conc...

Getting There It had been considered, had been prepared for, the path chosen, a way forwards, a route.  It was set, and the desire was to follow it, to have one course, one directive. The destination had been decided, agreed upon, but the way to go, the right roads to take, when to turn and where, all that was questioned. It was not possible the path I had set would be acceptable, though I was driving and knew the destination.

I did my writing tonight, as I always do, but the poems were all rather obsessed with the same ideas.  This happens at times, of course, with an idea working its way out in various guises,  In this case, I was progressing towards something, I think.  In some ways, perhaps each of the poems served as a sort of draft, in this case, clearing the way for a deeper, fresher perspective.  The first poem was superficial, or at least obvious, and when the next poem was on the same general subject, it pushed me to go in a new direction.  Though I was still attempting to communicate related ideas, I was farther in, had waded through the shallow waters, a process that repeated again and again, so that each subsequent poem had to pull from a new place.  It is not always this way, and it is not to say that the earlier poems might not be of value in some ways.  They may be raw and less refined.  Tonight, it felt as if I was moving towards something, but I will h...