‘So,’ it speaks to me as Drawing of Vonnegut, whom I have missed, saying to just make my thing and thems that recognize it will see it. i chew my lip from the inside and think-reply that i know i can take his word because, ‘here you are,’ i say, ‘right inside my very own mind.’  As reflection he warbles and fades, first to dry baling wire, and then to ink on paper, and finally to memory, leaving me with these comments while he flits amonsgt thems that can hear him, having the time of his un-life.

It shimmered and adjusted itself today, announcing itself more easily when I am not bunched up, fretting, looking for it to be like I expect, and quick, after years of intensity and pitta pitta and everything in aries and fiery leaping without looking.

And then the visions of the new work, the stacks of (illegible) with the light cast in

 I have to find out what it is

I listen for the work like keeping balance on a rope.  It makes itself clearer while my thoughts seem abundant and indefinite, least ruly.   Drawing of Vonnegut fades back in for a moment to say, ‘now get off your ass, take action, and move on’