Necessity, they say, is the mother of invention. And I the father, for this is no bastard child conceived in passing passion, born in shame, fostered abroad and shunned as a faceless stranger. I’ll claim the fruit of my own seed, nurture and protect it, essay to understand it, forgive it, liberate it and finally – I hope – celebrate it.

I’ve been wrestling with this midlife ode/anti-ode for a while. There are tightly wound, energetic bits like this that seem to be headed in the right direction. But other sections lose the tension, the focus. Needs more urgency and necessity…

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