10 January 2022

Andreae Callanan
A view from above of three sensory glitter tubes standing upright on a desk. The tubes are made of clear plastic and are about the same dimensions as those skinny soft drink cans you can get now. They are filled with clear liquid and coloured glitter. The one in the lower right is filled with gold glitter; the one to the left, silver glitter; the one in the upper right, royal blue glitter.
A view from above of three sensory glitter tubes standing upright on a desk. The tubes are made of clear plastic and are about the same dimensions as those skinny soft drink cans you can get now. They are filled with clear liquid and coloured glitter. The one in the lower right is filled with gold glitter; the one to the left, silver glitter; the one in the upper right, royal blue glitter.

Another truly dreary St. John’s winter day out there. I finally managed to send off a draft of the poem I’ve been working on. Now I’m making a cup of tea and curling up on the couch to read articles in which “experts” diagnose Emily Dickinson with every mental illness, neurological impairment, and psychic ailment known to man. Just in case we were under the impression that her literary output was the product of, y’know, skill or craft or something.