Between now and October 30th is a preparation for another year of aging. As my birthday falls November 1st. Another Fall  filled with excellent literary events, beginning with WOTS tomorrow, further organizing, hosting, attending readings and performing at two readings: September 29th at RRDR with Clara Blackwood and Barrie on October 1st. How perfect is such a date [I still don’t know how I’m going to get there? possibly take the GO Train or get a ride with Valentino and/or Domenic?] to read with Bruce Meyer at the series called Lend Me Your Ear. I am excited about leaving the city for an evening to read elsewhere with a diverse crowd. The launches are going to be intense…great for free wine but will require my utmost attention and active listening.
Harvesting the promotion of Quattro publishing through various media, launches, events, author outlets and friends/society is going steadily so far. Coupled with WordStage, it is a great deal of organizing for the new season, but Allan and Luciano have left the logistics of how things have been run prior to this return, thus making it an efficient and smooth transition. I am looking forward to the finalization of my manuscript for Guernica. I’ve got another 3 weeks on that. I cannot believe it is yet another year…Fall 2012. This preparation and revision is beginning to weigh on me as I trying to get the words wet and moist and keep those images hard, strong and dry. My newer poems: Swamp Love, Blue Flowering, Song of Scivias etc…o the work, the work. Lyrical. I am wondering where the in between of where language meets lyric and why such differentiation between the two schools of expression. It seems that one without the other is rather mundane as if the perfect blend between science and spirit were somehow not enough. Another contemplation of mine… an irony here: if one reviews, revises and re-reads one’s [their own] work too diligently, one loses any sort of perspective on their pieces. It becomes a debauchery–a cannibalism as Susan M pointed out to me a couple autumns ago, while going through revisions.
Oh, there are projects I want to finish– Colliding Home [the play], my new idea for a book [novella] RUST, some other poems, the closing of Exaltations in Cadmium Red. Alas, tonight there is reading, reading and more reading. I finished Lisa Young’s ‘When the Earth’. Now, I’m reading Jumping in the Asylum by Patrick Friesen. There’s too much to read, to lavish in and so little time. Surrender is fun so far. Ha. To think that is a title. It is often a different approach when we ‘must’ read vs. when we ‘want’ to read or read of interest or amusement as to when writers read for ‘work’ or that of labor. I have yet to finish my article on Carolyn Smart’s book of poems HOOKED and a review of the play that is performed in tandem with the book: Hooked in House. Oh, how many projects can one starving artist surpass! There is no hope for us poets, is there?