Concrete Formalist roundup (i.e., THIS). I expect to do something more with what THIS is over the next year, give or take, not because I should but because I might. And, having written that sentence, I have exhausted my options and desires. Love that release.
Miasma is winging its way to me to be proofed and launched via Lulu. This was the hardest book, written over four months only (felt like 4EVER) where I had three very separate threads going, hanging on by my fingernails, not at all sure where they were headed if anywhere. The title came to me and the cover drawing, and so I thought to simply print out what I had. I did so and arranging found I had a book, 48 pages. Two of the elements threaded together while the third was set apart in a second section. I like the book, and was immediately taken by a title for the next one, The Hunting Party, being the name of Linkin Park's latest album (as mentioned by my son, Jackson), and reminding my of Chekhov's The Shooting Party. I love the title for a book of poems, more so I am sure following Miasma.
But then the past several months have been difficult or at least wearying/hard. That's fine. I have been doing too much again things that needed doing, so sometimes we have to dig in and everything gets a little strange. So be it.
On the reading side I have Melville's last-published book Clarel - actually an epic poem - which I am enjoying in a group with two good friends, John Beer and Rodney Koenicke. We read aloud, discuss, and rotate taking notes. Good clean fun. Very strange book. We are all capable and wondering - engaged, enjoying ourselves and each other in the company of this piece by Melville who was himself a piece of work.
I promise not to go on too long here. So I won't. Adieu.