Over the last few months I have been moving away from poetry.

I’m landing nowhere in particular, although I’m still thinking about my projects-in-progress, but I think I’m in one of my annual “confused states” about what poetry means/should be/wants to be/actually is.

This happens here a lot. It’s sort of like getting a bump on the head. Like, I forget how to write poems for a little while, or there’s some flashy thing out in the distance that captures my attention for a while. And then I snap out of it and I come back to myself.

But now, I’m out there drifting.

What am I doing?

a. I am listening to a lot of music and playing my guitar a lot.
b. I am watching What Not to Wear almost daily.
c. I am reading fiction: The Brief History of the Dead now; Only Revolutions soon.
d. I am working a lot.
e. I am seeing my friends.
f. I am taking care of Arden.
g. I am experiencing a normal-than-usual level of anxiety and obsessive-compulsion. (which is normal for times when I’m not writing)
h. I am playing Nintendo.

I am also making significant life changes (again) and making a place in my life. Making a little room in my life. Making some travel plans.

Most of all, friends, I am feeling happy these days.

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