In a couple of days I leave for the west coast. I’ll have time to visit with long time friends before going to a writing workshop with Mark Doty in poetry and memoir. I’ve been holding the time for that the way I hold a sense of the sun’s path when I go walking in the pathless woods – real woods not metaphorical ones.  In the metaphorical world I’ve  been walking on nothing but paths for months and months. Paths of tasks I’ve managed to complete sometimes smoothly,  sometimes