disculpame.

Nigh on one month; my apologies. More poemish things coming, but I'm pretty offline at the moment. I am in the midst of vacating my apartment and have entered a sort of bardo. Working hard to relinquish material attachments, while simultaneously staving off enlightenment by making cute christmas-y things (photos of cookies and other gifties to come). I can't seem to stop reading books by various child-of-the-earth-american-intellectual-adventurer-Buddhists. Finished two books by Gretel Ehrlich, courtesy of Annie: The Solace of Open Spaces and A Match to the Heart. Now I'm onto The Snow Leopard by Peter Matthiesen. Funny how some books make so clear the imperative to be present and still, here and now, yet leave me gripped by the need to move, to push into the new, to see and do and plan and make.

Go, if you must, and see.
But remember to breathe.

A good writer pulls at once inward and outward.