I nabbed another prose poem, or whatever it is, through my letter to you (Jewell) about A. I had to change his name so he wouldn't be recognized, though there is only one A. If you saw him you'd say, "Yep, pretty good there Bob-O, that new name nails him." You'll see the piece before Christmas.
Plus my own new booklet of poems which I'll tuck in with your order from our bookshop on Monday. Many thanks for this order and yes you have the right amount. I believe you will love both items. This was just a little review for little beauties...I'm working on a larger spread of books, but of course none are in our bookshop, yet. Too new. They're in my library! I keep up my diet of reading through an awful lot of bad poetry that is getting published, while I try to publish a lot of very fine poets that get folded up into tiny shirt pocket booklets. Is there something wrong here? Is it me? Is it you? Is it Them? In fact, just this second, and not a second too soon, I learned that a small book of my poems scheduled from a translator and publisher in Norway has been turned down by the country's cultural board. I say: there is no such thing as good news or bad news, just news. Take the news and Press On. All I can think about is how a small tribe of devoted souls over there put in a good part of their lives dedicated to making something worth while. It didn't work. Give up? Never.
6 degrees early this morning! Where's my socks?
A kitten has changed and melted away any form of cabin fever in these parts.
A kitten? Sweetheart agrees. This is all we two snow trolls needed in our life? Such an easy antidote.
Yesterday I started calling Kokomo Cutie Pie Jimmy Monk Arnold, "Little Jo". Sweetheart made a face and sighed, "Bonanza?"
Well, not for me, just the sound and skipness of "Little Jo" is what I like. I ended up over the years calling all our cats many names. "Schizo" may as well be their names by the time they are mature.
Though I have to question Sweetheart a little closer because as I recall every single girl I knew during Bonanza's tv reign (mid-60s), fell in love with Little Joe. I believe I did as well. So who is she kidding?
I just read this aloud to her and she mused, "Yeah, but he became so square."
"I had a girlfriend who was absolutely in love with him," my Californian sweetheart said as she drifted back upstairs wearing 19 pounds of warm clothes. "Upstairs", in a genuine New England farmhouse, means freezer. I remember visiting Hayden when he was still in northern Vermont and he heated his tidy ramshackle house, and half the size as our place, with a fat kerosene heater in the living room, where H. sat beside it in maybe a rocking chair. Long ago and faraway. Going upstairs was a narrow tunnel stairway. Same with Ted's place, except Ted's staircase curls around....beloved!
The sun is returning, but no heat to it, though it's lovely on the living room floor. We will head into town for a short stay to do laundry and visit a few places. The laundry has to be taken to the car or truck now by sled, dragged back-in wet over snow and hung on a long outdoor rope line. O Pioneers.