All correspondence now has been reviewed.
Though some collections beg to be reread
before return to friends as recall food,
the bulk is boxed with stuff we’re going to shred.
The spiral notebooks where I drafted verse
that went to toner and became a post,
or never rose to what could reimburse
my effort, now are destined to be toast.
I spent long hours browsing diaries
and journals, gleaning details, nothing deep
in revelation – writing were the keys,
and only those from school days did I keep.
The mountain’s now a mesa. I suppose
the next step is to winnow through my prose.
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