As per I was writing to a friend today, via email: these past few months, I was on a writerly roll. I wrote so many new poems, and they were great, and they seemed to roll off my pen and into my fingers to be transcribed onto my Mac with all the effortlessness of rain or breath. And I should have heeded the Ching's warning: that this was a powerful time for me, but it would only last for a spell. 

And so it did. And just like that, the seeds of inspiration that were shooting their lofty heads ...
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