Sitting in a plane bound for Honolulu, faced with a five-hour stretch of humming engines and curious (not necessarily in a good way) smells-- unable to sleep, despite having been awake for 29 hours by then (I wouldn't fall asleep for another 18 hours)-- I started to write letters.
Except they kept coming out in the form of free-verse. Blame it on the rain, I guess.
And with each re-read, the weight of white space became more and more prominent until I became patently aware of my all-too-deeply-ingrained love affair with e. e. cummings.
Letters: Generation the Second and Beyond vary in their form, but I think most of the idealistic aspirations to poet status have been sufficiently drained from my system now.
This masthead is my own creation, but the two photos I used to make it were obtained from Flickr: here and here. Neither photographer is affiliated with or is endorsing this site, though all necessary permission has been obtained. (Thank you, Margaret!)
If you ever feel so inclined, you may request that I write *you* a letter by e-mailing me. Or you can wait for me to randomly do it on my own, but if I don't know you, it may take a while for the universe to configure the chance happenings in a proper fashion.
I like: Korean tea, cell phones, tweezers and that moment in the early part of "The Lion King" when it starts to rain. I prefer sitting on the ground to sitting in chairs, and vanilla ice cream is frequently and consistently "better" than chocolate.
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