Indira Ganesan

If life were this simple.  I began a post, as I have tried for many weeks now, on how discomposed one feels after writing a book, and having it rejected due my dismal sales record.  But in looking through my blog index for any previous mention of Coriander the book’s title, I came across a post about alu mutter , complete with a missing quotation mark, and a comment from dear Jenny Heath.  And that got me thinking of a collaborative  poem that was published in Addled Smoke Material by her late husband, the poet Jack Collum and poet Reed Bye, in which they describe a trip from New York City to Boulder, Colorado. The poem is called “Valvoline.” And the thought of that poem made me smile, and realize, eureka, that while one must recognize and mourn a creative grief, life is full of good poetry that dispels the dross.