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Words.

I reached the last page of my poetry notebook.
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That spiral notebook started out as one I used for work, at the most recent desk job at CLEAResult. When I left that temp assignment, I tore out the work-related pages and had more pages, blank, waiting. A day after I'd ended that job, I started filling the notebook with poems, plus poetry exercises because I later borrowed Stephen Fry's The Ode Less Traveled, his book on writing poetry.

I've said it often these past two years: I'd missed writing poetry. I'm enjoying writing more of it. Last year, I decided that that Composition notebook (the same kind of notebook Patton Oswalt writes in) would be my next poetry notebook. More recently, I wondered what the last poem in the first one would be. It's "To Swim in Stars," which I finished and posted earlier. It seems like a good one to end on — I felt like any short poem I might put on that last page would seem silly right on the heels of the long one — so after I'd put up the poem, I drew a red line down the rest of that last page. Time to move on to the next. There's room for more words there.

Some of the words will be good ones. I am learning.

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