“Let all crutch-comforts of the lesser loves Consigned to blesséd oblivion be: All praise demanded by the high aboves, All pride-baiting conceit of luxury. The soul, inverse of the mortal body, Is starved by unlimited consumption. Not that simple pleasures, abhorred should be; Pleasure's golden rule is moderation. Feeding instead on good boredom's silence, The soul expands to fill the waiting void Until it achieves a blesséd balance Which can withstand all life-leaching tabloids. But balance won must yet be won again, It runs out each day like ink from a pen.”

— Hunter Dansin, Sonnet 2: Crutch Comforts

Well I have been writing sonnets, and my wife told me they are not half bad, so here's to being a poet. How easy it is to hold onto bitterness, and how tempting to heap scorn on perceived enemies and hopes disappointed. But the annihilater of reactionism is the truth that the only way forward is love. It is Martin Luther King Jr's “way of the strong man.” And how many that read this laugh bitterly and look at me like a doormat? Don't you think the man who most strongly feels indignation is the one most fervently acting in opposition to it? Those of us who strive to be kind, to love, to hope and live creatively are not blind. It is a fight. I am not quite sure who I am reacting to. Probably the news, this country's president, some circumstance in my own life. Well. It's not all bad. I've been writing. We are provided for. My family is beautiful.