Soon to come: Odds and Ends

As I was getting ready for bed, I made the mistake of opening the
folder on my computer where I keep all the little scraps of ideas that
I would like to do something with, someday, when I get around to it. A
lot of it was poetry, or still life descriptions written in prose.

I prefer not to call myself a poet, because for me it conjures
negative images: Would you share a label with pretentious people
wearing berets in cafes reciting the same soulless tripe, expecting
admiration for their rare skill at combining nonsense?

No, I am not a poet. But I do occasionally write something that might
look like poetry. I don't really know what it is, nor do I care.
Where it comes from, and what purpose it serves are much more
important to me. It comes from a moment, often quite ordinary, that I
want to capture, record, or hold onto. So I write down a word here and
there, so that later I can read it and that moment comes back to life.

If I had one great ambition for this writing, it is that I capture
that moment well enough for some other reader to bring it to life too.
Just think- for me, it is a memory returning. For them, it would be a
momentary glance through someone else's eye. I'll post bits and pieces
of stuff here, stuff that I think just might have a shot at making the
jump out of my creaky memory and into someone else's eye.