Although my slowdown in blogging is in no way dire, I see a change in my creative energy that may make my blog posts fewer and further between. First of all, I’m currently teaching and working PT at the BPO, which means I am “in use” about 30 hours a week (actually teaching or actually working) and grading another 10-20 depending on the week. Second, I’ve started keeping my personal diary on my laptop instead of as a handwritten book-journal, which allows me to write a lot more personal stuff there and keep it from being posted here while at the same time expanding the amount that I would usually write in my personal journal. Third, I’ve only recently reacquired dependable internet at home (after being without it since I moved to NYC), so that has limited my blog posting time. Fourth, I am working on two personal book projects with the hope that one of them will shape into a publishable manuscript, so I actually feel the urge to write (poetry) again after being tapped almost completely dry since I finished OFC in 2004. Fifth, I have a number of editing projects I need to be working on before I give up editing, which I am planning to do next summer (not “forever,” just “until further notice”). Finally, I would like to use my blog energy for the greater good, so I am starting a second(ary) blog to write reviews of the many forthcoming Dusie kollectiv chapbooks.
Another thing that has come up recently is that a few people have asked me to blurb their books and I have agreed, which is weird on many fronts. Blurbs are weird; established older poets should write them; I am clueless about the genre. That said, agreeing to blurb Matt Klane’s B_____ Meditations [1-52] was a decision that led me to read a really great book. I rarely enjoy reading poetry, but when I do I get really elated (I admit that Klane’s work frequently, consistently makes me feel this way, and challenges me to be a better poet). I have not yet figured out how to blurb this book, but the image it gives me is of Whitman, post-stroke, with cable access. Tightly composed little quartets sing a new song of America, sampling CNN and punning with an ear to the poetry tradition of 19th century New Englanders. You will use your brain and you will like it.