Day started out nice, cool and bright. Great clouds. Painted quite awhile and started a larger format moleskine watercolor sketchbook. Came home and started setting up the worm box. Fedex showed up on cue so I dumped on those worms and everybody was happy.
Sat down to watch billy Collins give his 5:30 poetry talk and reading and BLAM. No internet or phone. so I ate dinner and watched billy on my iPhone. Called consolidated and they were very sorry about the problem and did I have any dogs or gates they should know about.
I’ve grown accustomed to the irregularity
the tricky business of “working” when
there’s no work to go to.
So I do my own work. Do the work.
I’m always preaching this and now
it’s mine to own and practice.
Do the work. I get up each morning
and make breakfast. Most days I go
out to paint. I come home and then,
it’s time to write. So I sit down,
hopefully having written something
in the pocket notebook I carry
just for the pleasure of capturing
all those fugitive words and phrases.
I compose myself, looking for a start.
And then, metered or no, it’s done
and as my notebook scribble said today,
it’s time to “stick a pen in it.”
Rinse and repeat tomorrow.
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