randomness

There were tiny buds on the magnolias near the bus stop this morning, and finger-length growth on the tulips along Michigan Avenue, so I am happy and have been giggling over the word "twitterpated" all afternoon. Mostly, though, I've been working on tax stuff, and eating lemon cake, and moving things into a new little sketchbook. I always feel like I'm sloughing something off whenever I do that, losing all those useless bits and slips of paper that are going nowhere. I've been carrying the KD manuscript around in a file folder and trying to find gaps where things are missing, which seems especially urgent, maybe a need for closure that mirrors a very obvious and important need for closure in real life. Perhaps the other books were easier to finish because there wasn't as much ME in the poems. Perhaps there is too much ME in the poems. Perhaps there are still too many birds in them, even still, and then again today, another hatching itself in my head. They won't stop. In Brandi's Bobcat Country book, there is a funny line about changing poets into rabbits, and indeed there are even alot of rabbits in KD--also a fox and some deer, but thankfully no mermaids. I have too many mermaid poems.