I'm just a little place-holder; more to come.
Currently in the process of moving to Boston to New York and hauling boxes around, saying farewells. What an unexpectedly gracious filibuster of a sendoff, from all fellow-travelers involved. I was quite knocked over by Jack and Christina's poem-dedications, as well as James' very thoughtfully-synthesized response to our monthly dinner discussions which began with a litany of well-chosen poems about baseball, and ended with O'Hara's "To The Harbormaster." The implications of this collage were subtly staged and bristling with enough potential conflict to read as both believable and moving.
To top off the evening, we impaled some fetuses on sticks. I first became a language when I realized I didn't trust poetry. So here we are, absorbent and unabsorbent passages coexisting happily in the same big paper towel.
Love to you and your accumulating body of work. I am grateful, tired, and craving potentially unhealthy things.