2 p.m.

I am tired. Slept only a little last night & still have many requisite hours of steadfast wakefulness ahead. Outside it's a mild cool rainy sunblown afternoon. My shoes are off, stockingfeet on desk, resting between sessions. Don Quixote & his faithful Pancho digging time.

This morning there was a massive gathering of prayerful Iowa muslims in the lobby of this building, spilling out of the ballroom on the 2nd floor - men, women smiling, hands on hearts and shoulders - Eid children shrieking, clambering on the staircase & eating hard candy, laughing. I glided through them, Son House in my earbuds, and an idea for a poem in my cerebellum.