but yes, the book, if it's to be a book i so often think there's a book and then i peter. out. in any case the poems are coming together i just have to figure a way to make them hang together. i like an arc in a book of poems.
tomorrow morning i am presenting, doing a "book review" of Anne Sexton's The Awful Rowing Toward God. this is what Episcopalians do in the summer. i will make it a sort of lesson however. i cannot help myself the teacher will out i like things to be instructive. oh god i would be reading sermons around the fire if my eyesight weren't so weak.
some of the poems make we almost weep which means i would weep if i were in the raw space where weeping is allowed. Sexton's choices often startle me and sometimes i find them off-putting but upon further inspection, well, you know. a thing can grow on you or at least an appreciation can come. the trouble with me is i so often don't wait long enough don't give it a good go before i move on. i know i know i miss so much.
i have an idea about the novel, that it won't work in first person, that i am not able to make that work. perhaps there's fear to it, a bald head. sometimes i see a bald head, a man's bald head like an egg that may crack right this minute. third person stream of consciousness, switching it up first third second i feel so comfortable with all that wiggling space.
i was able to find poems stuck in files in Word, poems i'd mostly forgotten, poems that very much belong in the book, some of them all but finished. and i can see the other poems clearly because it's been so long since i wrote them. thank you, Emily. Ms. Bishop.