September Regrets
September whooshed by like a buzzsaw through balsa wood, blowing me down and chipping away pieces of self I thought were necessary, creating a new surface, weather worn, badly in need of sanding, and dented from the impact of what seemed then such gentle encounters.
I pick at the sawdust remnants of what once were visions. They are jagged and small. They lie in tiny mounds like anthills raised from the soft-packed depths into daylight.
September regrets: Missed the Thurber House Evening with Authors. Got stuck at work and would have missed the majority of that event.
September regrets: Missed the Jazz Slam. I don't think I've ever had a beat inside me. Maybe I should have shown up to be inspired, but I was so tired at the time. I gave in to soft spot and a pillow on the sofa, tried my best to watch a movie. Woke up when Mya licked my face to wake me. She wanted to go outside but I don't know why--she'd already made her puddle.
September regrets: I haven't mailed nearly enough submittals to journals this month.
I pick at the sawdust remnants of what once were visions. They are jagged and small. They lie in tiny mounds like anthills raised from the soft-packed depths into daylight.
September regrets: Missed the Thurber House Evening with Authors. Got stuck at work and would have missed the majority of that event.
September regrets: Missed the Jazz Slam. I don't think I've ever had a beat inside me. Maybe I should have shown up to be inspired, but I was so tired at the time. I gave in to soft spot and a pillow on the sofa, tried my best to watch a movie. Woke up when Mya licked my face to wake me. She wanted to go outside but I don't know why--she'd already made her puddle.
September regrets: I haven't mailed nearly enough submittals to journals this month.
posted by Rose | 9:56 AM
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