Eerie/Shamanistic

In October 2009, I'd finished about 1/3rd to 1/4th of the Apparition Poems manuscript. Then, for a long month, I hit an internal power block about continuing. A long, eerie, frustrating, shamanistic month later, I resumed and wrote the rest of the book. I've stopped temporarily with the Conshy Apps, because I know what I want to crown the new manuscript: a run of poems about blood, family, and Conshohocken itself, analogous (if on a different thematic level) to the run of poems which begins Cheltenham. Writing is my yoga, and I'm not ready to empty myself yet; and the eerieness which hangs in the air reminds me of 11/09. Say hello to "visionary deadness" again; even as what's creeping in is so fulsome a sense of deadness about '14 America that only a serious shaman could deliver the visionary goods in reaction. We'll see.