It has been pointed out to me that I am not as good a poet as I wish I were, which is not news, but still: is it necessary to smack someone when she's already moody and tired? Despite this setback, I take the risk of mentioning that I finished revising a poem today, and I am pleased with it. I will not publish it here because I want to reserve the possibility of submitting it to a journal. But if you are interested in any of the following topics--the 1946 World Series, air pollution, punctuational experiment, the Nuremberg trials, or men's hats--I would be glad to show it to you.
In other news: rain, Red Sox, Republicans, Ruckus, revision, reliquaries, ruefulness, Rilke, Rastafarians, and reverb.
Also, Ozymandias and obstinacy.