What’s In My Journal
Odd things, like a button drawer. Mean
Thing, fishhooks, barbs in your hand.
But marbles too. A genius for being agreeable.
Junkyard crucifixes, voluptuous
discards. Space for knickknacks, and for
Alaska. Evidence to hang me, or to beatify.
Clues that lead nowhere, that never connected
anyway. Deliberate obfuscation, the kind
that takes genius. Chasms in character.
Loud omissions. Mornings that yawn above
a new grave. Pages you know exist
but you can’t find them. Someone’s terribly
inevitable life story, maybe mine.
by William Stafford, from Crossing Unmarked Snow
I’ve posted that poem before. I’ll probaby do it again. I like it. A lot.
Winter mailart I sent out in December. See those metal page trimmers? Those are some new-fangled 7 Gypsies contraptions I got online.
Lately I’ve been hibernating like the she-bear I am. It’s winter. I need a nap. Still having trouble putting words together to make sentences.
Bear with me during my minimalist period here.
In other news my sister took Mama Moss shopping for the latest craze to hit her senior living village. Thong underwear.
I do wish Carol would try and talk M.M. down when she gets one of her Big Ideas, but she has a bad habit of encouraging this type of thing.
This postage stamp sized photo of the latest ARTFUL BLOGGING magazine was the only one I could get my grubby mitts on. If you get out your 30x jeweler’s magnifying glass and press in very close to the screen you may be able to read the yellow words that read, “Passionate dispatches from an LA blogger.” I never thought of myself as passionate, more like possessed. Who knew?
This next issue is available February 1st.
Let me just lumber back to my fur-lined den now.