Spent the morning on my House poems, gathering up what belongs together in one file, it's satisfying to see it grow, and makes one realize that more development is needed: 20 poems by the end of the year. Indulgently, counting even little ones, there are seven now. So the target is reachable. Ideally double that number would be good, to be able to choose the better ones.
Things grow. One poem mentions a door, and it turned into the threshold to that door, and then the clear image of feet going to and fro over it, wanting to describe that, to give the feeling of the passage of time. I shall look up other names for shoes - boots, galoshes, high-heeled shoes, - and the materials - satin, patent leather, suede.
Wrote a short biography for the leaflet to advertise our poetry reading at Paekakariki.
And a blurb to advertise Dora's film. A letter of thanks arrived from the Holocaust Centre, neat. It has also been a good day weather-wise, despite the cold. Blue and clear.
Was tired tonight, read some Yeats. I could do with more of him. I don't know who I have lent my Szymborska book to, and I miss her. Shall read more E Bishop before going to sleep.
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