I live in a place called “I’m working on it”, which is a place of dreams, poems, and partial manuscripts. Hopelessly entangled, my real and written worlds mirror each other like water reflections, distorted by winds above and stones below.
In rare moments the surface calms, allowing imagination to breach the plane of possibility.
Maybe such moments are all the success I will ever achieve, or need. If so, success is deeply personal and vexingly random. Perhaps even trivial. That’s what this blog will contain: the personal, random, and trivial. Odd moments of clarity, when life is marvelous, even though I am merely “working on it.”