Today, actually (as in Tuesday. Sometimes WordPress dates my posts weirdly.). I moved in on Friday, as mentioned when I talked about my favorite football player. Which meant that the past five days have been a crazy whirlwind of packing, unpacking, hanging out with my roommate and college friends, prepping for classes, class, freaking out over syllabi, working out, paperwork for research, and the beginnings of homework. In all of this craziness, I have not been writing because I have not been as free late at night when I usually write, and by the time I get into my apartment I’m too tired to work.
I am sure, however, that as soon as things get going with my writing classes (Poetry and Fiction in one semester, oh boy) that I will be posting and asking for feedback (constructive and gentle, preferably) and writing like crazy. So please keep reading, dear ones.
In the meantime, here’s a lovely little poem by Donald Hall:
If he and she do not know each other, and feel confident they will not meet again; if he avoids affectionate words; if she has grown insensible skin under skin; if they desire only the tribute of another’s cry; if they employ each other as revenge on old lovers or families of entitlement and steel— then there will be no betrayals, no letters returned unread, no frenzy, no hurled words of permanent humiliation, no trembling days, no vomit at midnight, no repeated apparition of a body floating face-down at the pond’s edge