I have been entirely unable to concentrate recently. My side work is the organizing focus point of my life and without it

My sidework is what I call my poetry. It is more central than to the side but this is how I identify with my husband, who also has "sidework" from his job.

Like today--I feel too social. I wish I didn't have the obligations I put on myself. Lunch with a friend, Jeannie (who I don't think will ever read this anyway). I love Jeannie but lunch takes time. I had vaguely planned to write. Maybe the vagueness was the problem. Then I remembered that I'd been promising to go to another friend's yoga class. I could have put it off a little longer, but since it occurred to me right then I started to feel the angst of never doing. The Yoga was good, then we went and had tea, me and her, and then my entire day was gone; hubby be home soon.

Posting here I feel like I'm taking care of another obligation. Always feel like I need to write when and in where I say I will, eventually. It isn't so much obligation to Dave (hey Dave) but to myself not to feel obligated to Dave (don't feel bad Dave). But it's been a day of taking

So that stuff was what happened to me today--er, yesterday. And here's some poetry about other days. Not perfect but something.

El

-------------------------------------------

The lights flash on the brick apartments.

With others

the spattered clanking hypnotizes.

Faces

on lines rumple me

moving through my veins. why.

why. why?

They are inferior.

I am hot.

Untitiled

------

Beg me for money, wrinkles.

See that I contain

prosperity only for one

otherwise inside me,

smarts my dad said I had.

Any breath of mine now

could come the friction

that knocks you down.

This here ball of hair

You will look like it.

Tumble down the street.

I'm way past, you you still hear me.