Happy Bastille/Boone Day!

Today is Boone's first birthday. Technically, it probably isn't (he was a shelter rescue so there's no way to be sure), but he was 6 weeks old when I got him and we're roughly six weeks before that date, thus: Happy Birthday Boone! He's been handling the adjustment from wide open Blue Ridge to basement studio amazingly well. He wins the dog park, every time. Good boy.

Long way from there to here. It's the same loveseat in both pictures, you know, for scale.

*********************

"The critical difference between prose and poetry is that prose is kind of like water and will become the shape of any vessel you pour it into to. Poetry is like a piece of sculpture and can easily break," Collins says.

Billy Collins, on poetry for e-books....

********************

Probably a bit late on this one, but I thought this essay by James Allen Hall was pretty damn striking:

Telling you about my mother is like first cleaning then assembling her gun. In the end, she’s whole. She’s dangerous again. My mother’s gun was always loaded and well-hidden. I can’t remember how many times I’ve ransacked her room, looking for it so I could stop her from holding it to her head again, stop her from putting it in her open mouth.

****************