I think I may have expressed this before, but it is really fucking hard to blog when you don’t have internet. And when you’re about to move. So here’s a synopsis of the last couple of blog-less days:


worrying about how little I write these days



worrying about how little I write these days

learning how to play texas hold’em


playing bananagrams

worrying about how little I write these days

applying bug killer to garden


So, even though I am vaguely trying to convince myself that blogging is a form of writing, it’s still not the kind of writing that I want to do more of. Once this move is over, I am battening down the hatches. I am going to write every day, really. I need to think about the framework for the book manuscript, the relationship between the writer-speaker and myself the writer, the function of the ending and what that ending should be. I need to figure out what’s missing in the chapbook (more wet ghosts? more detached limbs?), and what is up with its form.

I also want to start new things. I love having longer projects, book-length poems to go and go and go forward, but I don’t want to get stuck there. I might have to start limiting myself to one- or two-page poems.

Tomorrow: THE MOVE!!!!

After: drive-in movie, taking sister to airport, unpacking, reading and writing on My First Porch.

[when you make plans, the cat laughs]


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