I’ll call it wisdom (Ilya Kaminsky).

“A poem is not a report on life. A poem is life.”

And also, this week:

learned how to use a letter press

acquired dreams of grandeur associated with said letter press

constructed new life plan which combines countryside + visitors + artists + farming

read a poem that exploded some hairs from my head: woah

panicked about taxes & other numbers

humbled/thrilled by my poems in a screenplay thanks to jessie katz (!!)

piled lots of birthday mail on the table for wednesday

read lowell insatiably, aided by the notes of my mother, camels class of ’78 (thanks mom)

ate triple citrus

ate tuna fish

ate entire daytimes, ate a cookie from a stranger & ice cream from the carton

watched misha with a smartphone

remembered that when people make me uncomfortable i unconsciously sing otis redding to myself &

sissykatz arrives on saturday (& thank goodness for THAT)



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