This is my desk for a few more days.
Notice the "Make Art, Not War." Notice the wild sweet peas and beneath that a picture of Frida Kahlo.
I came here to begin revising my third manuscript. I have, I went from two pages of poems that I felt were complete to fourteen pages. I started three new poems yesterday.
One I started while sitting on the edge of a cliff looking at a lighthouse and a mountain.
Deer are everywhere here. But so are hornets. Each afternoon I know it's time to close my windows after I've caught and released no less than ten hornets with a wine glass. Hornet season is bad this yes, or maybe these are paper wasps. Either way, they find their way and I am their escort out.
Thankfully, I am not afraid of bees or wasps or hornets and in fact, if their buzzing wasn't so loud, would let them travel the room until they find their way back to the blackberries. But I am afraid of not writing poems or working, and their buzzing makes me lose my place, lose my poem, and that is why we can't live together in this small room with big windows.