Heroics.

There have been a few times in my life where I felt a real kinship with my car. For example, during a hideous ice storm driving from Ann Arbor to Bowling Green in the dark. That machine was part of me. I thought slow down and it did. We were a lovely pair. However, such kinship could never compare to my affection for the snowblower that has helped me survive this very snowy winter. Back in the fall I hoped Mother Nature would take it easy on us, especially since it was my first year taking care of the house all by myself. Ha ha. This has been the snowiest winter in a long time.

BUT today it started to melt. The icicles were no longer so menacing (unless you caught them on the way to the ground). The snow wasn't so high. It felt like a miracle.

The poetic equivalent thereof: reading O'Hara's Meditations in an Emergency at my hairdresser's today. It's for my MFA class. I know the book so well, especially certain poems, but had been away from it for a while. What a revelation! (That ! is for you, Frank O'Hara). At that moment I realized how important it is to read things other than student poems, and manuscripts I'm editing, and policy documents.

Hopefully I will be able to write something new again soon. A poem, not a memo.

Meanwhile, here's the latest in our BOR #3 process journal. Did the new issue withstand the curl up in bed and read it test? You'll just have to check out the BOR blog and see.