It's a good disjointed evening here - time feels out of joint with time change - just finished writer's group. i'm making jewelry, catching up with emails - feel out of sync a little, but happy. It's also Purim , Jewish holiday of irony, not taking oneself too seriously while taking injustice in the world seriously. i wrote a Purim poem.

Purim

I didn't grow up in an Orthodox neighborhood
where at Purim every little girl dresses in purple
and parades as Queen Esther. I don't have
seven recipes for hamen tashen, or even one.
I don't tell jokes and don't get drunk and can't sing
well enough to parody bad singing in the Purim spiel,
but I know paradox, irony, mystery, humility,
don't take myself so seriously, know there is no
one right way and yet know that evil does exist
does threaten, and demands identification.
But when? How? Purim calls me to take
that question seriously. More irony. Purim.