"So far the hairline cracks wandering the plaster
still debate, in Socratic unhurt, what constitutes a good life"
-Jane Hirshfield, "Termites: An Assay" 

I'm sitting right now with my dog Timber curled up over my feet and I'm trying to shape everything I feel for this little ball of fur into coherency and it's not working, it's really not. I know exactly what I want to say, but I'm unable to match the tone properly. 

The best solution to this? More puppy cuddles.

In all seriousness, though, it has been an engaging, challenging process in trying to write this poem. I have been exposed to so much love poetry of the romantic nature and while, yes, those feelings do bubble to the surface and pop in neat poetic turns of phrase, there are so many other kinds of love that make you crazy enough to want to write about them, aren't there? Still, condensing instinctual squishy feelings into orderly lines continues to be difficult.

Yesterday, trying to write this poem in class? I got halfway stuck on a sentence and nearly cried. Not because it was hard--though it was (trying to find serious poetic synonyms for fluffy-snuggly-cutie)--but because I was struck by how much I love this silly mutt. And I found myself thinking of Love That Dog by Sharon Creech, a book that entranced me as a kid without a dog who wanted one so, so badly. I said last week that I was aiming for a universally heart-string-plucking kind of poem, but now I realized who I really want to do justice to is that kid.

The poem is still dragging its feet a little bit, and I am currently switching back and forth between editing and re-editing it and typing this post. I expect I will be struck with more ideas for its improvement tomorrow morning, as that is usually how it has gone over the course of this project.

Next week, I will be getting back to Catullus! I will be translating this lovely little poem, Catullus 8, which consists of advice--to himself. To follow this up, as soon as I'm satisfied with my translation of his work, I will write one of my own, advising myself. And yes, I will attempt Latin, though of course I barely grasp poetic meter in writing and have no idea how to go about constructing it. Towards the middle of the week, I will probably consult with my mentor on that. If that proves to be too much of a mountain to climb, though, I am fine with producing something that follows the constraints of Latin prose instead, albeit with some of the freedom of structure of English (a highly hybridized animal).