Following is an example of the format I’m using in the project mentioned yesterday. I modify it slightly as I get the experience.
March 1, 2026 Closed eyes and picked a book. Poem: Elsewheres Author: Donald Justice Source: Selected Poems, p. 63 Line: "The drip of something - is it water?- Reaction: There is a presence in this poem. I seek to replicate. Category: Resonance Acquired new after seeing Justice at the UPS Store in Coralville. Don't recall when, but he was moving to Chapel Hill, N.C. Would read more.
I have nine shelves of poetry, close to 600 books. When I want poetry, I walk over and grab a book. I haven’t read them all, and may not. They serve as a spring of imagery from which to refresh myself from time to time.
Roughly a fifth of them were purchased deliberately when I searched for a specific book of poetry. The rest are from remainder piles, used book stores, Goodwill, the Salvation Army, yard sales, and the community library used book sale. There was intent behind each selection based on what was available. The shelves are not as random as one may think.
When I encounter the 25 or so poems I once wrote, the words on the page come from a place of magic. I don’t know how I wrote them and couldn’t write them again. Words transcend the author. I’m better off leaving them where they are and writing something new.
To that end, I started a project of reading poetry. Each day I walk over to the shelves with eyes closed and pick a random book. Then I flip it open and read the first poem that appears. I select one line and write it down in a spiral notebook along with details of the encounter and my reaction. The notebook has 70 pages, so we’ll see where filling it takes me.
A septuagenarian is aware of the remaining viable days in a life. If I can restart writing poetry, it would be a productive use of some of mine. A person has to do something in life. For me, this is one thing.
Photograph on Jan. 26, 2026.AI rendering of photograph.
The truth or reality behind these two images is unknowable. I believe in a Cartesian view of humanity in which the phrase “I think, therefore, I am” indicates the isolate self, reaching to others that potentially exist, through the veil of Maya. The minute I captured the photograph on my mobile device, it left the plane of reality. The artificial intelligence rendering of it in a Monet-style impressionism is merely a variation of the original. The underlying reality of that sunrise is no longer knowable. Even I have only memories that have decayed for eight hours as I type this.
These images reflect an actuality I remember, yet not reality. Shakespeare famously had Hamlet say, “to hold as ‘twere the mirror up to nature: to show virtue her feature, scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time his form and pressure.” Perhaps Shakespeare assumed the mirror was a neutral conduit for reality. For purposes of an Elizabethan play making that assumption may have been necessary and fodder for audiences who knew otherwise to react.
Images such as these have a use in social media and blog posts. Those who followed my blog the last few months often saw sunrise photographs at the header. I post them on BlueSky, as well. They represent a shorthand of my experience on that date at a specific time. They are largely throw-away images even if some of them are quite fetching. The point I am making with this photograph and its rendering is a new day is dawning in which we can be better humans with new chances. That, too, is an interpretation, something worth hoping for.
I’m a bit infatuated with the image rendering capabilities of artificial intelligence. Of the five photographs I tried, only two were keepers, and then only for long enough to post them on one of the platforms I use. While that moment in which I captured the rising sun is no longer knowable, it was as real as anything can be. My Cartesian model notwithstanding.
Empty milk bottles, an empty wine bottle and a salad dressing bottle... filled with water and white tulips -- whose time will soon be past.
There is a dead spider in a milk bottle. I remember those milk bottles being left on the back porch, filled with milk. How it was...
Contemporary life has changed. We drive to the Stop N Shop to get our milk in plastic jugs (#2 recyclable). And glass milk bottles are the stuff of collectors and flea marketers.
Journey Home 
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