Since the reading at Ralph’s I’ve been very depressed about my work. No two ways around it, no matter how I look at it; it’s not up to my own standards and unless I find my way back to it, the Work seems to be at more or less a closing point.

I’m close to 10K poems, anyway. 8750 here; 300+ in previous books; various one-offs and the like…must be close by, anyway. I cannot imagine there being much more to offer.

So FOR NOW, anyway, I’m signing off on poetry. A hollow feeling that I trust will be filled over time; I may come back to it at some point, but I doubt it will ever feel like it once did and frankly, I cannot see it mattering more than it has so far.

Thank you all for having listened, read, commented, etc.
It was a hoot, wasn’t it?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

onward,
T