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Today's subject line comes from Khaya Osborne's When All the Dandelions Have Wilted, the Scratch of Tobacco is So Much Less Damning, via Frontier Poetry's Exceptional Poetry From Around the Web list.
Signal-boosted by tweeps: Brian Bilston's Refugees and Irene Klepfisz's Perspectives on the Second World War.
Week in review: Six poems rejected, five images rejected, one new poem drafted and submitted. See previous entry for links to the two now online.
I logged more than fifty hours at the day job last week, and wasn't good for much by yesterday evening, so instead of going out, I opened a bottle of cava and pan-fried four scallops with a strip of pork belly, with leftover rice and fennel rounding out the meal. Then I divided the rest of the night between song/dance prep and housework.
There's a line in Philip Gefter's "Place Beyond the Pines" (published online as The Place Beyond the Fire Island Pines, about Columbia County, that particularly resonated with me when I read it in the bath some days ago: "I like to think of the region as a sprawling artists' colony, where everyone is almost pathologically productive, keeping a safe distance from one another in their secluded studios while still wanting to know what everyone is working on."
Sending you thoughts of both naps and seeds from my secluded studio, my dears.
Signal-boosted by tweeps: Brian Bilston's Refugees and Irene Klepfisz's Perspectives on the Second World War.
Week in review: Six poems rejected, five images rejected, one new poem drafted and submitted. See previous entry for links to the two now online.
I logged more than fifty hours at the day job last week, and wasn't good for much by yesterday evening, so instead of going out, I opened a bottle of cava and pan-fried four scallops with a strip of pork belly, with leftover rice and fennel rounding out the meal. Then I divided the rest of the night between song/dance prep and housework.
There's a line in Philip Gefter's "Place Beyond the Pines" (published online as The Place Beyond the Fire Island Pines, about Columbia County, that particularly resonated with me when I read it in the bath some days ago: "I like to think of the region as a sprawling artists' colony, where everyone is almost pathologically productive, keeping a safe distance from one another in their secluded studios while still wanting to know what everyone is working on."
Sending you thoughts of both naps and seeds from my secluded studio, my dears.
