Even If Your Watch Is Full Of

An Artists Job Is To See. And To Go Out In The World And See It Firsthand, Just As It Is; To Report With Line And Words What Is Seen. To Be In The World, Not Just Study About The World, That Is The Artists Task

If You Notice Phrases, Ideas, And Anecdotes That Closely Resemble Those That Appear Elsewhere In My Writing, It's Not A Matter Of Sloppy Editing. I'm Repeating Myself. I'm Reshuffling Words In The Hope That Just Once I Might Say Something Exactly Right. And I'm Still Wrestling With Dilemmas That Are Not Easily Resolved Or Easily Dismissed. I Run At Them Again And Again Because I Am Not Finished With Them. Any May Never Be. Work-in- Progress On A Life-in-progress Is What My Writing Is About. And Some Progress In The Work Is Enough To Keep It Going On.

Goldfish And Hamsters And White Mice And Even The Little Seed In The Styrofoam Cup-they All Die. So Do We.

The Leaves Let Go, The Seeds Let Go, And I Must Let Go Sometimes, Too, And Cast My Lot With Another Of Nature’s Imperfect But Tenacious Survivors.

I Once Listed All The Good Things I Did Over The Past Year, And Then Turned Them Into Resolution Form And Backdated Them. That Was A Good Feeling