Wednesday, December 06, 2006

Is There a Drama Award for This?

Up early, working again on the poem. I suppose there it is a bit of self-drama in putting so much emphasis on a single poem and delaying the submission of the manuscript because of that poem. But if self-drama is what gets me out of bed in the morning and working, so be it. Thank God for coffee. I am a poor typist (I think that is the reason I'm a poet, rather than a novelist) and until I am properly caffeinated, I am a much worse typist.

In the poem it is a summer night. I am alone. I am walking through a field. I am trying to remember something.

What am I trying to remember?

* * *

It isn't summer, of course. It's December in Michigan, though there was a thaw in the air when I took the dogs out. And so, the first lines of "February Morning" by Laurie Sheck from The Willow Grove (Alfred A. Knopf, 1996):

Low fog. Snow melt. Pines. Then the things of this world brightening,
sharpening.

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