Still here, albeit in poetic form.

I'm just writing poems, that's all. Or 'poems,' in some cases. That's why there have been no blog posts, in case you have been standing around wondering.

Anyway, I've posted almost all of the poems here.  As per usual, it's a mixed bag:

(last night in the dark:) 

Me: I can't wait for this week to be over. 

The historian: I know. 

[long pause:] 

Me: At least I only have six more poems to write. 

Sigh.

But also as per usual, it's rewarding--if you write more, more ideas for writing come to you, and that's a fact, as in it walks, talks, and smells like a fact, even if I have no empirical data besides my own production to prove it.

But what I'm really here to say is that soon, very soon--on May 1, in fact--I will be writing blog posts again. I KNOW. I'm sure everyone has been waiting with bated breath for that to happen. Well, bated breath or whatevs, that is what's happening. On May 1. I am prognosticating, prophesying, and public service announcing it.

Poems, just in case you want a concise set of links:

(one)

(two)

(three)

(four)

(five)

(six)

(seven)

(eight)

(nine)

(ten)

(eleven)

(twelve)

(thirteen)

(fourteen)

(fifteen)(terrible self-pitying poem. there's always at least one.)

(sixteen)

(seventeen)

(eighteen)

(nineteen)

(twenty)(this will one day be my Prince poem. Not finished yet.)

(twenty-one)(too terrible to post--but one day it will be better. Based on some love-letters Charlotte Bronte sent to someone who did not requite her love. Tragic.)

(twenty-two)

(twenty-three)

(twenty-four)