I remember now.
Cold damp days when even the sun doesn’t want to come out.
And now . . . I remember last October 1st. I can’t say for certain that it also was cold or grey, only that it felt that way. It was the death of a season, the death of Poon, the death of forever ties. And in one week, I would begin my season of Grief. How fitting that one year later, to the very day, I should be invited to read my works along with a poet who has lived a not-so-very-different mutability. This is how I hope to shed my year of Grief, next week at Aqua Books.
And then what? Two years after ‘coming to the page’ publicly on La Charpente, will I continue to share my creative ebbs and flows with you? Will Violet keep leaving her moon? What will I be writing about on the 9th?. . .