More often than not, when writing the first words of the day, I feel I’m returning from a long absence or great distance. Maybe I am. Each sound is a powerful summons. The tables and chairs have grown roots. And the house — is it moving? Am I at sea?
When their horns echo in the mist,
I’m half-convinced the trains have turned
to ships. I go to the window, see ocean
lapping at the curb, bodies adrift,
houses unmoored. Reassured,
I settle down to work.
Songs and Letters, March 8, 2007
Another Song I Know, Cosmopsis Books, 2007
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