Believing in Ars Poetica

There's a breeze coming from the sea of my childhood. There is heat at mid-day and mail arrives. And I have chance meetings with the people I should know better. A live story is sung in my head. I am not certain about much else. Thinking of Tolstoi who said poetry should infect the reader, silly I think, a metaphor from the age when germs were new--but yes, there's something going around.

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[Leslie B.]

Bodies of water are so healing, perhaps it's because this is the birthplace of us all? A vivid dream I had many years ago was that I lived in a duplex. My apartment faced a bustling city. I was agitated and horribly melancholy. The other apartment was occupied by an old woman who was the manager of the duplex. When she observed by distress, she said that we would switch apartments, which I thought was silly -- so much work. I boxed up my belongings, and worked and worked to move them. When I was finally finished, I threw open the French windows of the apartment. The fresh air of the ocean rushed in -- the new apartment faced the sea! All the angst rushed from me, and I awoke perfectly calm and happy after many days of despair. It was amazing. I'll never forget that dream!