Meant to write something at that time but was distracted by either the kids or the cleaning crew asking me something.  Now, 10:07.  Just emailed by the Enterprise Director and told to take off at noon.  Generous, but I’ll still be working in some form, at the table here or on some errand for food or wine or something.

Henry grieves, probably hungry.  I think of poetry, youth, aging and me getting older. Poets seeing it differently.  He stops crying when Melissa picks him up.  Here at table looking out at fog, the foggy day.  Fog reminding me of the boat trip we took when I was young to the San Juan Islands, chartering a 30-foot something Grand Banks I think the bot type or make was called.  This one island, think it was called Roche Harbor, had this kind of fog.  Every morning.  We’d go for walks and play catch on this large lawn, and walk around the island.  There was this one abandoned house, that atypical haunted house white, that I always love looking at.  Then a graveyard, old, and mausoleum.  The poetic of it was all of it, starting with and coming back to the mist above the water and docks, dirt and tombstones.

Started a new poem.  Promising self 3 for day.  Looking at Emma a bit ago in the other room reading something, looking far too grown for my liking and comfort.  Why, I wonder.  Time, just moves and moves, not concerned or even reactive to our reactions.

Two poems done for day.  Have to type the ones in the ’48 journal from a week or so ago.  Need to commit to a sitting, just sit and scribble verse.  Hard to do with the encircling loudness from kids.  Weird, quiet now.  Why.  What are they doing up there?  Don’t care.

Thinking of ’21, what I’ll do, write into actuality and materiality.  This quiet letting me enjoy those visions, the fog, like I’m back on that boat but older and a writer and I guess you could say blogger.  Different, but not.

Was going to write something just now, but forgot.  What did I mean to type quickly before the kids come back down here and impose their reign?  10:58.  One hour, two minutes of work left, technically.