and oh am I struck! I do realize I spend way too much talking about the weather, but it pleases me no end to see the brown muddy grass and the ice on the lake edge breaking up...I am almost a different person, or feel like a different person from my mean, hardened wintery self. I am still doing some thinking about poetry and publication and audience, as well as some breaking up of longer projects into shorter manageable bits. I took the brief history poems out of havoc since they seem to be more about creativity and identity than the others, and if it's going to be a chap manuscript, I tend to prefer it shorter anyway. In a way, I feel like I am moving through periods where the poems serve different functions and speak to entirely different things.
