For those of you who aren’t poets, I’ll probably have to say that I’m not talking about jeans. Larry Levis has been a very influential poet to many writers in the past two decades. And he happens to be at the center of my thesis.

His posthumous collection—aptly title, Elegy—mourns the world itself. It’s an incredible book.

When Elle and I travelled to New Zealand, and  later to Guatemala I carried only three books with me for the half year we were gone. Elegy was one of them. I’ve digested his words slowly and they have come to bear a weight on my own.

Re-reading the book these past weeks has been a deep pleasure. Though I now find myself at the point of a deadline. By Monday I should have a workable minimum of 20 pages on Levis and I’m off to a slow start.

On the other side? Elie is excited to head to Arizona in a couple weeks. River is crawling and generally being my absolute favorite part about this world. The current title poem of my manuscript, The End of the Folded Map, was just accepted by Passages North. The chickens are loving their time in the garden and their eggs grow continually more delicious.

And yet.

Winters always have their lulls. I’m just glad mine includes all I mentioned above. Onward.