I forgot to mention the sound of trains -- you hear them all the time in my neighborhood. I live within spitting distance from the Metro, but it's not just Metro trains that travel those tracks. The night is filled with the iron and steel weight of passage North. I know in a few months, I will no longer hear the sound of the trains, [because you never hear repetitive noises after while] but for now, they remain present.

This morning I drove down to my old school - the George Washington University to meet with an old Professor and to scour the library for books on H.D. It was wonderful. The library is STOCKED by the way. I found everything I was looking for without having lean on consortium. It was also wonderful to reconnect with one of the professors who really encouraged me to become a poet. He caught me up on all of the gossip and gave me a few contacts to pursue in regards to publication, teaching etc. The meeting eased my mind a little. I've been feeling as if I'm about to go back underwater for a long time -- taking on a new job -- and have been afraid I will be in a place where I will no longer have time to write or work on my dissertation. It's a necessary submerging - we need the money. But, meeting with him, somehow, made me feel better about it all. Just talking about poetry and poetics and to people who care about poetry and poetics makes me feel better.

There goes another train -- it's slow moving and feels emense.

From H.D.:

When I am a cup
lifted up,
can you hear
echo in a seashell?

When we came home tonight the neighborhood was filled with the music of Bamba. Our street is a fast one that intersects a real hippy neighborbood with a real urban D.C. neighborhood. There are African Americans, Puerto Ricans, Germans and a muscian from New Orleans (he plays the tuba and makes a living at it! It's fascinating) all living within my tiny block.

I talked to the school I'll be teaching at yesterday and I think I had a panic attack thinking about the full-time commitment -- how will I write? When will I ever complete my exams? I guess the same way I've done every thing else -- by the skin of my teeth. I finally wrote my first question, but I haven't yet gotten a response back from my committee chair, so who knows what she thinks.

Wow - moving is, let's just say, disruptive! I've spent the last month unpacking and unpacking. So much time. However, it's amazing what you unearth when you unpack. I found 21 poems I wrote back when I lived in Brooklyn about the bog people. (Don't ask - I think I was reading a lot of Seamus Heaney) and all of these other poems I'd written in graduate school that I hadn't remebered that I had written. I saw finding them as a sign. I need to get my poems in order and my book out. I've been procrastinating long enough. So, that is now my new summer project and probably a lot of what I will be talking about in my blog.

I no longer live in Cleveland, Ohio, anymore. Now, I live in Washington D.C. I think I am still adjusting to my surroundings. We take family outings to the national mall. It's surreal. I am meeting with my old poetry professor at GW on Monday to talk about possible adjunct positions in the Spring or summer (as if I don't already have enough going on!). Then, I'm heading into GW's library to try and kick-start myself back into the Ph.D. study for your exams until your eyes bleed mode. Can't wait.