2026, Day Book, everyday words, Ohio River Valley Literature, Poet's Life

Daybook 2026 // Winter 1.7.26

1.7.26

Begin again.

The world’s machine’s mechanisms run regardless in a pre-ordained program covered in iteration upon iteration of user design models. We are so far from how the soup is made, it’s all a needle prick to the gut and the promise of future health savings. 

Begin again, word machine: with your hot coffee, tart apple, pipe, and (different) hip pain. Begin again because they are counting on you. Begin again because you are counting on yourself. Begin with your weapons of choice: a sharpened pencil, bare paper, the naked insistence which fuels you. Move the gears, grease the pistons. Give us a little play. 

Begin again.

These steamboat metaphors break my heart. But it is a loving pain, a teary-eyed executioner.

Move, piston. Move.

ma
chine

clang
type

a diction
ary

with
fingers

a fingers
of diction

aries
ma
chine
Standard