•143/ the guilt of the book’s endpages as they rust with mold, brown stain of time and humidity, lack of reading, the poetry within turning stale, stiff with rot and decay.
Saturday, August 16, 2014
the litany of verbs spread out across my calendar
Lost almost a week of writing— mundane acts cluttered my schedule, leaving me exhausted by day’s end: picking Brendan up from his grandparents’, setting up lectures for later in the week, grading a stray quiz, folding, sorting, clearing drying, fluffing, unfolding, moving, taking, draining— the litany of verbs spread out across my calendar, clogging it with present tense –ing verb forms. Save for now, now a rare halfhour lingers before sleep descends.