it's the day after the gloriousness we call the 4th of July. i love laying awake late into the night, listening to the booming of multiple (competing?) displays of fireworks. i love that i am just about to fall asleep when the finales volley through the air like it's the attack on Fort Wagner. i love sweating in our small room, trying to think cool thoughts in order to ward off spontaneous human combustion, because the smell of sulfur and phosphorus wafts into the open window, choking us.
i LOVE it all. in fact, i wish everyday were the 4th of July.
i received a proof copy of my next chapbook, 25 Best-Loved Poems of the Future, from my publisher Bill Roberts of Bottle of Smoke Press. the book is supposed to be available July 15. i will post when i know more about it. oh, and the proof looks great. this will be a killer book, beautifully designed and full of pretty damn good poetry (if i do say so myself).
nothing else very poetic has happened the past few days. i renewed my subscription to The Small Press Review the other day. haven't heard anything from the numerous submissions i have out. i haven't written much lately. a few words here and there. mostly, all i've been doing is working. and, that alone, has been enough (too much) to keep me busy.
such is the life of a small press poet.
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