Assignments

So many things. Finals, decorate for Christmas, bake, and clean. Walk my legs across the street and take home my father's things. I'm dreaming of the January seed catalogs . Give me the colors of a brand new year.

Rachel has been asking for a poetry assignment, which of course is something way beyond me, so I'll have to copy (poorly) from DDL. I keep a notepad to write words that I like down while I'm proofing, in hopes of someday doing something with them. My desk is currently cluttered with yellow scraps of paper documenting what I've seen. So, Rachel, or whoever else wants to play, here's one day's gleaning for you. The assignment is: Use five to seven of the following words or phrases in a poem. Set the timer before you begin. You have 12 minutes. Ready, Set, Go.

Docket sounding
breach
standard of care
touchstone
equity
prism
hamstring
prong
due diligence
enforce
revolve
mechanics
challenge for cause
pry
coddle
reasonable doubt
embedded
spectra
strike him for cause
lithium toxicity
preceptor
pseudarthrosis

The Writers Letting Their Hair Down

Window Seat

The Horse Head Nebula

Writers' Party!

Yes, I'm falling behind on my duties. It's the end of the semester, life is going astray...

But

Wednesday night we're having a carry-in get together at Chris O'Brien's.

It's at 7:00. Chris is making soup and bread. Bring something, anything. No, not your dog, unless you can cook him up to be tasty and tender. Otherwise, bring food, drink and/or a piece of writing to share. It will be a nice break and we all need it.

If you need directions, e-mail me. I'll dig them up from wherever I typed them from and send them to you.

Closing Arguments

(Why I love my job, although I was tempted to leave it this way.)

Plaintiff's Attorney: And things that get said that don't get immediately corrected often take the error of truth.

Murals 2004

The Light Most Favorable

(just riffing while I work through the mess. Trying to find that stream of consciousness place.)


Someone shouts, “Look, there’s
Elvis,” and while your back
is turned the shades go
down. But it’s all of a piece, isn’t
it? Otherwise you wouldn’t be
standing there with that
damn music, those platform shoes.
Play it backwards, perhaps you’ll
be able to claim that sound. Two,
three, twenty. Does it matter?
Night is coming. There’s no one
around.

Promises

I'm snowed under with work and the promise (threat?) of more work and the end of the semester. I know, everyone can relate. My laptop has a virus, Gene's car was towed back to the shop three hours after we handed over $600 to the mechanics for a new timing belt and water pump. I got home from The Chicory just in time to take his rescue-me-from-the-toll-road call (I should not be complaining about work. I'm going to need as much as I can take.) From the toll road we catapulted to Kalamazoo to have dinner with Tom and see his orchestra concert. Tomorrow, we catapult back to see his holiday jazz concert. There seems to be no room for my soul to wander toward anything else, but nevertheless, at 11:30 last night we passed this church sign:

Above All
Else Thank
God

And of course now I'm thinking, who would enjamb God that way?

Keweenaw Weather