So, I'm sorry that what eats my life is going to eat my readers' lives too. Of course, if you object to this, you can stop reading. I won't even be angry. In that spirit, here's the poem I'm turning in today for poetry class. It's not fantastic, but I think it actually might be something, eventually. There's traces of good things there.

I Woke Up Alone

The air flowed soft waves of snow,
the ground lay an untouched page.
I floated between page,
frosted forest, and elusive heaven.
I saw painful, etched traces
of dark buried brown,
and one slow, swan-walking figure.

I was thinking that this blog might turn into some kind of artistic journaling keep tracking of thing this semester. A record of my growth as a poet. Since I can put poetry up pretty easily. I dunno. I'm thinking about it. It might not happen.

I thought it was funny that Professor Roth's bedtime fantasy is a button which would tell him if anyone has ever used a particular sentence before, and if so, when, where, and who said it. He really likes sentences that no one else has ever used before.