"Poetry is useless," poet Geoffrey Nutter said in a 2013 interview, "but it is useless the way the soul is useless—it is unnecessary, but we would not be what we are without it."

~ As quoted in an article by Ellen McGrath Smith, “Forget the Jackpot––Writing as a Sacred Act” published in “Talking Writing.”

The ice lingers and satisfies. I go to the river, wander, to the wetlands and brook in the cold. The photo is the prayer: I am grateful to be where the woodpecker is making noise at getting food. Today I work on prepping for my Farm Pond Writers tomorrow. And I write an artist statement to go with my photo/text assemblage on weather, and it comes together nicely. The sun is pouring in the windows. The daylight lengthens and yet it’s strange, it’s not spring. It’s long day of cold weather. I think about going for a second afternoon walk but get distracted by e-mails I must return. And tomorrow my Monologues course for TLAN ends, sort of. Because we are going to extend the course by having a showcase of the monologues on April 18, on Zoom, and I’m very happy about that, because the writing is so good. I am in the middle of a busy busy week. Tomorrow, I will revise a poem for Thursday poetry workshop. I will choose which one tomorrow.