Surprisingly warm for our walk by the river today. Today was a writing day, for my poetry group tonight. I worked on a revision of last week’s poem, it wasn’t working as a poem, so I tried it as prose, and then I thought, well, after all, I can get it to work as poetry. . . and that’s the shape I brought it in to my group in, where the feedback was: it’s prose. And I have not nailed the ending. I have officially reached the I will toss it out stage. Except, a funny thing, a strange, and probably meaningful thing happened to me when I was reading the poem aloud to my group: I had a laughing fit when I reached the word “pew” for the second time. (It’s mentioned three times in the poem) and I almost didn’t recover from my little catharsis of hilarity well enough to finish reading it. So, I doubt I’ll toss it. This piece strikes so many nerves. Pew. Pew. Pew. Let me dream on this stinker, she called to her muse.