Courage, Silence, the Deliquescent Dregs

— It’s the delightful deliquescent dregs of August. The golden hour is doing the old razzle-dazzle like its life depended on it. — Let’s take a look at the archives. Perhaps this post, “August Light, August Poetry.” Or, this one, “Summer’s End.” Here’s one on evening light in the summer. — Another from the archives on the so called idyllic writing life. — Well, the idea that it is in writing that we can create ourselves. One of the ways. This is the thing about making, creating. It’s not even the thing that you end up making, but it’s how the making makes you. I’ve always loved that. And so of course we makers despair at the present time when it feels like that is being taken from us, from the futures of those would-be artists and writers, our youth. I spend a lot of time reacting in my mind to the sloppola. But on the ground level, I’m still doing my writing, I’m taking photographs. I’m making this and that. — What we have is silence, the silence between words and passages of words,…