"What happened to the daily poems?" you ask.

You may have noticed that wordcurrents (A new poem every day . . . .) has had no new posts since Sunday January 10, 2010. Today is Thursday the 14th. What happened?

I got the 'flu.

Monday, I slept all morning. That afternoon, I practised with our quartet, Acapellics Anonymous, 2:30 to 4 pm at our home, waved goodbye, and suddenly felt so tired I had to lie down. By 6 pm I had a temperature, and the next few days blur into each other, as I slept most of the time.

Fortunately, we had no major snowstorms that needed shoveling, and the only social engagements I had were duplicate bridge and Barbershop practice, to both of which I sent regrets.

I had in the back of my mind that this was a chance to germinate some poetry seeds, but my brain refused to consider poetry. Last evening, my brain gave its consent to consider the concept, worked on a beginning for a poem about inability to work a poem while sick, but that went four lines in my head (still more or less there) and no further. It seems that writing requires something that sickness removes. Maybe science can use that observation to further investigate art.

When will I post again? Not yet. Later today? That seems unlikely: my impetus seems to me at this moment to be trapped within the leprotic hoary crust of a virulent joke.