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State of the Union
thoughts while not listening to the State of the Union address
During the state of the union address tonight I sent out query letters to agents and listened to my favorite songs on iTunes, especially those with good solid brass to bring us along. I considered the near-constant butterflies in my mid-section that I can’t seem to talk myself out of these days. I thought about pieces of poems I’ve written and pieces of poems I’m working out in my head. I’m finally old enough and strong enough to speak my mind without, or in spite of any fear, yet I hold back on some things because of hard-won wisdom.
I realized yesterday that I spent nearly all of 2019 healing from the cancer and treatments and therapies I was fortunate enough to survive in 2018. What is Trump against that?
My language has not only survived but seems to be slowly flourishing once more. I can see my writing mentor lean forward, smiling, and exclaim that the well always refills, hear his laughter of delight. How fortunate I’ve been in my teachers and friends and for all the expanses of literature, stories, music, rhythms, art, narratives, odes, and scribbles that I’ve followed all my life with a faith I did not know I had.
Why announce such personal things to you on Medium.com or, worse, on Facebook amid the lies of the political…
