Just finished a day of sending CWIM corrections to the designer. Tomorrow, I'll be talking poetry on Twitter and working on NSSWM. There was a minor hiccup in the binding of Writer's Market that hopefully doesn't turn into something more significant (one of those 1/8 of an inch alignment problems--yippee!). But all the books are going to make it out, and they're all going to rock when they do.
Speaking of rocking...this past weekend rocked. I spent it primarily with Tammy and Baby Will (though he did have a babysitter for a date night on Saturday). During the entire weekend, Tammy and I hit three bookstores, ate at Veni Vidi Vicci's (some upscale Italian place that had great food and service, but made me nervous that I was using the wrong fork or something), watched Jaws on the big screen at Fox Theatre, and included lots of first time eating experiences, including my first Cuban sandwich and hot boiled peanuts done Cajun style (woo-hoo!). Plus, I "discovered" a band that's apparently been around forever named The Magnetic Fields. Who knew? (Apparently, everyone except me.)
Anyway, the weekend rocked, and I even fit in time to watch District 9 with Tammy and make some bacon and eggs on Sunday morning. Mmmm... (Anyone else notice that I'm totally about food in these blog posts?)
Here are the poems since the last post:
I don't know how to act around people anymore--
I sit in my car and wait for my wife
to collect hot chocolate and marshmallows from Kroger.
Another man arrives and waits alone
in his truck as a woman circles the parking lot
in her minivan talking on her cell.
The evening is quiet and humid and somewhere
someone is maybe getting a signal.
157-No reason for ALL CAPS
I am going to strangle a poem
& light a house on fire before hitting
my neighbor's cat with my car
because I can't communicate
how watching oil cover the gulf
doesn't stop me from driving
my words tumble from me
like a leak that can't be plugged
or a problem that spreads
158-Clean or kill them?
They look like they are made of wood
with marble eyes, these pelicans
huddled together in a cage.
Only a handful are likely
to survive past twenty-four hours.
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