Poetry and me.

Sometimes it's so boring. I skipped the reading today, couldn't bear to schlep downtown, didn't have the three bucks for the garage and not enough gas to search for a parking spot close enough.

Turned out to be a good choice, since there was a meeting being held for sponsors of confirmands at my old church. I'm sponsoring the son of my friend, Sue.

Sharing faith- yeah- there's a daunting prospect. I don't know what to tell the kid.

Life amazes me sometimes, blue skies, babies, really good food. But then there's ugliness, mean people, nuts, and all those people who want me to be like them instead of like I am.

Where's God in that? What is God anyway? My 90 year old aunt says I shouldn't write poetry because it's "not from God....and takes me away from my family."

She's one of the true believers who wants everything you do to be to the "glory of God" but who says this isn't?

Maybe if religion weren't so patriarchal...