[untitled]

Soot, steadily catalogued blurs
have silted up the screen
door of memory with unwanted
debris, scattered moths and—
you know the sort.
You know the sorting of these things,
better than I can tell you
I hope... I am saying too much.
You know the sort. I trust that
you know the sorting of these things
into particulars, pinned thorax up
photonegative before the glass:
lying won't do you any good, and
laying won't give us any guarded
understanding of how we passed
into the night, mostly
blind, swung and spun, drifting
like hunched marionettes,
shadows of old crunched-up spiders
cast, like bracken, in the tinder pile.
You know the sort. We are
the photos still undeveloped
in the garage, beyond the old oil rag
and tins of undeserved distinction:
by the humming engine
and slightly cracked grille, the rusted
hood whose refractions spill soft amber
about the room, honeyed preservation,
seeping out slower than incautious time.
But, by the humming engine, something breathes
love out of a self spun web wove too tight,
stirred now by undisturbing footfalls,
the echo of its given space; it bends
and flexes its new birthed and radiant span,
and flutters until we cannot see it by
or in our blinds. Well, I trust
we know the sort of thing it does.

How much can one blog about why one hasn't been blogging before the whole exercise becomes not only annoying but self-defeating? (And yes, I write these words knowing that certain masochistic readers have thought this blog to be that way from the get-go.)

I've been fighting off not only stacks of work at the Articles office and the now-graded midterms for Professor Amar's class, but also a nastily persistent flu. I think it was visited upon me as biological or karmic retribution for accidentally locking my coat in the law school on Monday night.

In any case, in consequence of all of this, my papers, house, and effects have become even more of a shambles than they usually are after a busy week, so it's the work of several hours and a lot of bad pop music to try to bring things back to semblance of order.

I'll be back eventually.