Wednesday, December 1, 2010


Came in out of the dark to find a large spider on the door. Eight homeless souls  perished in Poland yesterday , where it is at least  twenty times colder outside than  here,  this frigid morning.

At the end , did my sitting by the wood burner, lang syne,   anguishing about the writer's lot make any difference ?

For a point in time , in the bathroom ,  I suddenly  appreciated my Dad's need to sweat about God's forgiveness, five minutes before his death. Five years over and done.

Actually, yes;  a turn of phrase was found. A writhing , half-formed critter, the death and life of us all; that is what I was working like a dog on busting.

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