May. 27th, 2004

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(Another headline.)


I've been reading through old poems. It's like I was a different person...reading through them, re-discovering the various happy intense obsessions behind everything I wrote, and now that I remember it, everything I did. It hasn't even been that long, I'm still young enough that what feels like completely foreign, ancient news could be only a year or two past.


Better than that, I've been typing up the few newer poems written since February or so, combining various unfinished notebooks into a few computer files. It feels so good. I'm excited about what possible words could come out this summer, with time available in which to smooth ideas into actual phrases. I'm going to try to write everyday, and this doesn't count. Prose, poetry, opinionated ramblings...whatever happens. I need to channel all the scattered passion into something I can hold in my hands, even something as thin as a piece of printed paper.

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sidewalksparkle

May 2015

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