word wrecker

My friend David is a poet. He has a poet's soul and a poet's hunger and he doesn't drink which means he has more than a poet's proliferation. It's incredible. I just checked out his blog and he writes every day- every day a poem or an observation and I know that he also writes every day off line on various projects. I love writers, (see most of my closest friends) but I hate writing. This may sound strange. I keep trying to write that novel---or short story or screenplay--- but transitioning from my first medium- poetry, to this new and prose is clumsy and difficult. Especially after such a long estrangement from both. In college my best short stories were like poems. Professors and classmates would always say one of two things about my short stories: "this could be a poem" or "this could be an excerpt from a novel." At our hooding, one of my professors introduced my as a poet. I don't know when I have ever felt so humbled. I still don'

Everyone is beautiful after a workout. Before, we're jumpy, hot, jostling gear and the sticky tiredness of daily stress. You can almost hear the internal cycle: monotonous lists of other things to be done--> reasons to work out--> what I hate about my body--> reasons to work out--> important tasks waiting. After, breathing is slower, deeper. Tension is erased. You can see the naturalness of physical exertion. How good it is for us. Everything is clean. Everything is calm. No matter how old I feel,  if I feel gross in body or just super tired. If I look around, every face shows a peace that has been earned, every muscle a grace that has been given.