apparently did not involve blogging. But I did review an exceptional retrospective of Jeanne Mammen’s art in Berlin, drive all over Egypt on a fantastic vacation, and write this poem at #34C3—where the theme this year was tuwat, or “do something.” I am such a happy Chaos butterfly.


For example, the soft light in the winter sky has moved too quickly to describe, as dawns do.
Spread itself more and more evenly with clouds across the happy blue.
And what is to be done? What are you going to do?
About beauty and its restlessness,
about the soft but harshly cold expanse,
about the flock of thoughts and happenings that trekked across and vanished—
no longer native to this season—
like migrants under waves?
Tell me, witness. First your own heart’s rhythms, all that you can hear.
Then out of the fabric of your body in the world, the rest of life pulsing,
pressing itself into you, purring, pulling you near.