winter sun

This is the eve of the one-year anniversary of my blog. A lot has happened. Much has changed for me, but still things are largely the same, inside my head that is. Circumstances have shifted; my place with respect to those around me is different now. But the same themes, the same preoccupations vex me still.

I used to keep a journal, writing extensively each day. I still keep a journal, but the entries are more spotty. This blog has become the journal of my days. I worry about the ephemeral nature of it all; so easily erased, not tangible like the many bound volumes that line my shelves, going back to my earliest college days. I kept no record before that; there was nothing, in my mind, that I wanted to remember.



In reading back through last year's entries, I found this poem I had written. I am going to reprint it here, because it means even more to me now than at the time I completed it. Please bear with me. I apologize for excess self-indulgence.

hymn

Here I sit,
crossed by gashes of light, watching
pictures skitter and disappear; each
lasts only a moment.

On the other side,
legs split, a victory symbol, pink-tipped,
waits with claws splayed--
an outline--suggesting

eternity of loss. The current, strong and
altered only by the touch of
time passed, breeds: a germ colony,
next a penful of toxic ink.

I feel a splash now, warm gusts.
the roar slackens in a few fast
ticks. So then, will I touch your chest, and imagine this?

This morning there will be no fear;
no fear nor regret.

(2 January 2005)