But instead I'm thinking and counting and that kind of stuff. 117 completed poems (less than I expected, frankly). Still have a cycle to finish (seven more poems to go), some works-in-progress, and some strewn about creations that I have to stumble upon and finish, I suppose.
I have wishes, and aspirations, and also, I have no idea what I'll do with my poems. I'm wasting a lot of time on them, for sure. But to what use? I wonder.
Did I mention it's actually snowing? I'm so excited. A huge and lovely surprise.
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