The ground's covered with snow.  Flakes are swirling in the air.  Thankfully the winds have abated.  It's cold.  This 112 year old house makes noises in the cold that are different from other times of year.

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I was looking at pictures of my one month (one month!) old granddaughter and thought "She has elfin ears."

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Still stuck at a pivotal point in Appearances.  There's a thing I need to figure out in order to proceed.  I keep rejecting different possibilities.  Once I figure this out the piece should open wider.

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Thomas Fink and I have returned to working on our sestinas.  Once the revision process is completed we'll have a chapbook worth of work.

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I have a book's worth of uncollected poetry from the last year or two.  Maybe a couple of books or a number of chapbooks.  I just don't see any available venues at this point.  Nor do I have the sense that the work I've already put out is garnering much attention at this point.

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Slow sips of wine.  Slow glances snuck at the accumulating snow.

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I think of my hair as brown but the other day when I got a haircut all the evidence on the apron was gray.

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The stew I'm building is starting to smell very good.

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Disappointed that the new Roland Barthes book didn't arrive today.

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I've been experimenting with a slide on the electric guitar.  There have been isolated moments of an elementary blues developing which I am trying  not to get in the way of.

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One of the things I love about an electric guitar--strumming it before you turn the amp on and then hearing the sound extend and continue when you do.

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