9:31 a.m. — Atlanta
listening to Back in the U.S.S.R. by the Beatles on my brand new super sweet nano [I have had a large heavy old one since, well, since they came out]
Hello, all. I hope all is well as we start the year. To those in the Northeast and Midwest, stay warm. An unlooked for reason to be glad my brother settled in Florida: I can complain when it is six degrees outside, as it is now. It’s no fun having children who live in DC and Vermont, when one wants to grouse about the cold.
I missed you, but then, I always do when I’m not in touch. By their tones, I’d say Joseph Harker, Barbara Young, and the bartenders at dVerse did too. We’re all back and you might notice a fresh energy to our voices.
For this week, I want you to write a poem that touches, in some way, on this question: What would you leave to the future of humanity? It might be something grand and unattainable, or something tiny but important, or something everyday that is getting lost in the shuffle of life.
Avoid the conditional, unless it’s part of your style and format for this poem. Avoid cliché. I know. That requires some thinking and it’s early in the year. I have faith in you.
I will not see you until next Tuesday, for a prompt that will involve a little research. Tomorrow I have gum surgery on the entire right side of my mouth. I suspect I shall be blissfully in the grip of codeine on the following days.
Welcome back and happy writing, everyone.