Early rise. Publish post about my dream written at 1am. Writing dreams down is excellent writing exercise, because you recall more and more detail as you go, something about painting a personal landscape. Will think about this more later.
Meditate for maybe seven minutes.
Plans for fried haloumi with scrambled eggs with rich buttery toast collapse under wieght of wasted moments. Toast only.
Notice shoulders tense as a cat on a razor fence.
Wash shirt on quick cycle and wait for it to finish so I can put it in the dryer while I shower.
No time to shave.
Will head to work and maintain simulacra of commitment and punctuality.
Compose letter to God over coffee. Between me and the Lord and all of you, it simply says, "I trust You."
Write this in car:
O love that seeks
Not to confine
Or be confined,
How fare you
In mortal clime?
You paint the
You are a tale
Of infinite goodness.
So this is my new thing, iterative posts, although I won't go back to a post once I start the next one. Have always been hopeless with keeping a journal. Said it before. At least if I keep all my poems here then I will know where to find them. I have lots of catching up to do and then it will be time for my second collection.
O fun, feeling eight types of freaked out, precisely the feelings I was trying to avoid. Can only laugh at myself and the burden of self-created woes. I think that is enough for today.