- It is what I have always done.
- It distracts me from the bleaker aspects of my situation.
- Other people have found them pleasing.
- For the poems: I have been working on a book for more than ten years that I should have finished long ago & I now feel a particular pressure to bring that project to a close.
- Who knows? Perhaps there will be another book after that--I'm writing fast these days.
- For the collages & drawings: I couldn't really stop if there were a reason to.
What's the point of making the collages, the drawings, or the poems I work on sitting up in bed beside the window overlooking the river? Well, I have been making poems my entire adult life, even making a profession of it, though I would prefer that word be taken in the sense of profession of faith. (Full disclosure: I have made my living as a teacher of poetry.) And I have made little visual things almost as consistently. So, even though I am now limited by my disease, why shouldn't I continue?And yet, reader, you know what I mean--Now that the end of my life sooner rather than later is a real possibility, why bother with these trivialities? This is the question, in a bleak mood, with which I began the first draft of this post last week. Here is how I answer the question, as of the middle of June, 2016: