I believe that this is the fourth time that I have added to the Notre Dame electronic part of the Review. Before pressing the send button for the first couple of submissions, I remember feeling hesitation and uncertainty about the destination of the words.  I could almost say, I missed and mused about the figurative book covers containing them, which, for centuries, when they were actual physical pieces of cardboard or leather, nearly assured that human hands holding the book would be voluntarily drawn in and would be people who in some way were looking for the words.

I very much appreciate the editors who are taking the step to lead us out into contact and exchange with readers through this vehicle.  I appreciate being under their electronic wings, under their context, so that the words have a starting place and a context from which to leave.

I am by no means alone among those musing about the meaning, the effects and the place of these new words.  I am still thinking and experiencing the reality of the web.  What a word.  Like most words it has dark and light sides.  But today I am seeing it as the beautiful and learned structure that a spider puts together with knowledge and effort.  The one on our gate is symmetrical and drops of transparent rain hang from many of its interstices.  I am impressed by its specificity.  I am impressed that it attaches itself to a place and from there, a place (in this case, the old, many times repainted brown metal gate) collects what passes by.  The spider web catches more than it gives.  It invites use but in rather self-interested ways.  There is so much to think about in that intense, incredibly mysterious, little textile in the garden.

For the web this time, I include my own website.  It connects to some other links, and thus inches out. 

I also have posted an essay that I was asked to write about a poet’s work.  A volume is being collected to celebrate and explore the many books Richard Burns has written.  I took an angle that I thought would not have been put into words by the other authors in the collection.  I meant it to open new ground.  It seemed too new, too off point, to the editor. So now I send it out to the world that is working its way through new angles, new rays of light, which will, if we are lucky, help us see what we are living with each step we take into our present.  I put it on the web as a crystal clear drop that will catch some light on the web.