Trying to break old habit.  Writing poems by hand and not typing them, just letting them rot in a comp book, or in some file.  But I’ve been plagued and haunted all day by dying writings, writings I wrote but again just left to decay.  Today, I’m changing, or setting forth the first step in altering my character and perspective.  Typed the poem I started last night in class, finished tonight while the students were finishing their presentations.  “Dam Down”, 16 lines, a little rime but not much.  Piece for sale, that will never see this blog, ever.

Everything is poetry, or something to be read.

Opened an ’07 Kunde Zin that was buried in my wine closet.  Going to sip for a while, then sleep.  So my writing day’s written, done.  Hope to wake early to—  No, no jinxing.  Just write a grand mammoth of a poem tomorrow, something you’re eager to read, anywhere, anytime…

New me, performed—