Today we woke to snow so I closed the door and went back to bed. In four days E’s mom will be here and in five days I will have surgery. Only E’s mom was expected. I hate people seeing me sick so I plan to be instantly better, five minutes after I see the doctor.

At the thrift store we found a first edition Anne Sexton which convinced me once again, that I don’t like most poetry books written in the last twenty years. Maybe it’s the modern voice. Maybe I have old ears. Yet give me Sexton and Celan each and every day. I think old poetry can heal me.

Oh and did anyone else read the Spencer Reesce became a priest?