It’s a rite of passage, for poets, this laying out the manuscript pages of poems for the assemblage of a manuscript. So, here I am. Here are my poems on my borrowed bed in my borrowed room. Here is my process in this quiet without pets or family members. I left home this morning after walking Charlie, briefly, and taking a swim. I had hoped the pool here would be swimmable, but, alas, it is very small and square and not for lap swimming. I drove to Lenox, Western, Mass. Into the colder temps. It’s freezing. And there are scraps of snow on lawns. The sky was gray. I am grateful to be here and don’t care about the weather outdoors. My work is in this heated room with all these pages. Made good progress from noon on, and my eyes are weary tonight. Bleary too. I am focused and positive and hopeful for results. Frank texted me such generous thoughts and wishes, as he always does and this time will not be wasted.