With Gusto

Yonder Fisheries: Take Ye Time

Just finished reading Gaiman's "Coraline". Pretty good.

I've been gnashing my teeth and popping mental bubbles today by revising poems. Not bad. Pretty absurd to grumble over an idea, unexpressed, improper. But it's like figuring out a chord progression, or a finger picking melody.
It takes almost a whole day of finger picking to finalize the melody I had in mind. Poetry is the same way, except I spend time wondering if glark or grok is the right word choice. Then those words get flung to the abstractions where they came from (thesaurus.com) and from the resources I get things like timed and heard. Oh -- the complexities. Single syllable verbs. Where do they come from? How many do I need?
At the end, when the poem is expressed, things feel good. Like a sandcastle with a drawbridge and little fishies governing the throne bearers, who in turn, become addicted to the sun and end up on the patio all day.

One poem down. Five to go.