Received MA NT I S from D. yesterday; a fine little book, very nicely made, which is a filk of MAINTAINS, a poem by Clark Coolidge, who also wrote this:
Writing is a prayer for
always it starts at the portal lockless to me at last leads
to the mystery of everything that has always been written.
To which I respond:
writing is a place where transience rushes inward to meet the eternal
Childcare for Alex tonight.
Made a nice big batch of oatmeal for breakfast.