What Happens

Just now I compared a notebook entry from Jerez de la Frontera, March 27, with its present iteration as a poem called "The Right Size". The first had a Saramago move: "...engaged in the study of what we call, choosing the most common metaphor, borderlands...". This never made it to the poem.



Where the notebook entry goes on to coin edgethropologist, the poem gets to its five stanzas and sees itself looping at the end, as did the entry, now that I read its last half-page.
Anyway, I've been noticing with such material a drift from where I wrote the entries--I can't remember the exact place in this case--and what I saw, to the form it's taken now. Maybe that's why I've kept the place and date bottom-right of each poem (not in photo above). To keep the lines of the place moving my way.



Could have been written here.