Book Update

Dear Hilda,

I thought it might be good for me to say hello, as I have not thought of you or Ezra for quite some time. Other friends characters and stories have pushed their way through. It was inevitable, was it not? I don't feel bad about putting you in the backseat. I mean, you're still in the car, right? There are just other things that need to be taken care of before I can focus on you and Ezra. I think it's best that I take a break from Ezra anyway. I'm sure you agree, as you know how persistent he can be. And rude.

Anyhow, I still care dearly for you and will return to you again...someday. Who knows. Maybe this letter will find you in the most ambitious state and you'll climb over the car seats and ride shotgun again.

XoXo,

~Cassandra

Procrastinating (not writing my novel)

(I make desktop wallpaper for "inspiration")

Ezra
I have known you

in the hush of trees
in autumn's amber light
in fields of summer sunsets

Ezra
I have known you

in the hurting sea
and in the distant city lights
remembering all the nights

when my heart was dark and blind

Collage for Hilda

Rose, harsh rose

marred and with stint of petals,

meagre flower, thin,

sparse of leaf,

more precious

than a wet rose

single on a stem --

you are caught in the drift.

Stunted, with small leaf,

you are flung on the sand,

you are lifted

in the crisp sand

that drives in the wind.

Can the spice-rose

drip such acrid fragrance

hardened in a leaf?

~Sea Rose by Hilda Doolittle

It seems I made this ATC subconsciously with Sea Rose embedded in the deep of my mind. I didn't realize, until just now, how well it corresponds with the poem. Don't you love when that happens?

If only you could see what I see...

I finished end to torment, a memoir of Ezra Pound whilst on my lunch break. Well, not entirely. I still have to read "Hilda's Book," which is at the end. It's a collection of poems Ezra wrote to Hilda. I'm pretty excited about it because sadly, I've never read any of EP's pre-modernism work and I don't care much for his modernist ramblings.

Finishing the book and reading through a rather large biography on H.D. prompts me to start writing the story I have in mind. It will be based on their relationship. But another part of me just wants to keep researching. I think it's an excuse, really. I have enough to start writing, but perhaps I'm afraid. Afraid the beautiful things I have in my mind won't transfer onto paper. Well, of course they won't! Not at first. Haven't I learned that by now?

I once got a fortune that read, "You are good with words and should write a book." I plan on taking that advice, but just have to stop writing all these books in my head. People aren't mind readers!