I’m watching out my office window where my neighbor is doing some very early spring cleanup:  picking up branches, raking winter leaves… he’s dressed in his hunting gear, though.  I don’t know if it’s any particular season, though; maybe he just wanted to be camouflaged in his front yard.  I’ve been lazy at writing lately, but I’ve been energetic at remodeling.  The ugly wallpaper in the basement is gone and I’ve scraped half of the backing paper away.  A little more money saved and I’ll have new hardwood floors.

I’ve been working on a poem about Medusa but mostly struggling.  I read a book of Robert Bly’s prose poems, “Morning Glory,” which made me think of re-working the poem into a prose format.  I’ve never written in that style before, but maybe it’ll break the log-jam I’ve been in with it.  I just hate it when I can’t get to the feeling I want with a poem.  I just keep dancing near it…

I guess if it was easy everyone would do it.