and see, this is what happens. when I begin to memorize poems, I stop writing poems. as if there is only so much brainspace to go around and the freshly memorized words take up extra room before settling in, back with the others, filed and a little dusty.

but the memorizing is good, it leads to edits that wouldn't have happened otherwise. and it's good to be able to live the poems out, to do them justice with sound, which most times (for me) requires memorizing.

the cleaning staff last night must have removed the cardboard tube I keep under my desk and on which I rest my feet and it's not necessary in any way but has been there almost a year -- why would they take it now? I miss it. how bizarre.

I need to begin analyzing poems again -- has been way with four syllables too long. in March I'm teaching a four-week workshop through louderARTS, must do some analysis before then, maybe tonight I'll theme it and spend some quality time with the books.

if I've lent you a book of poetry, could you return it please? I miss them. more than the cardboard tube. must not lend out books no more. no more. I call upon all my bookplates to throw themselves (and the books in which they live) off the shelves of every bookcase outside 702 Grand St. well, we'll see what happens now.

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