I realized, today, that posting poems on the Internet makes them ineligible for publication. Darn. I wonder if that’ll ever change? A weblog is hardly in the same camp as a literary journal, but it’s also not the same as showing something to your friends around a table at a bar. Anyway, it means that’s the end of my sharing of terrible first drafts. I’ll finish out the month by writing about whatever writing work I do that day, and maybe posting some excerpts, a la the very wise Mary.
Today I wrote the bones of a poem about riding the Skytrain. It’s called, brilliantly, Skytrain, and I started while riding the Skytrain. Imagine that!
And I spent most of the day organizing batches of submissions for literary journals and a chapbook publisher. I think my eyes are now permanently crossed. Not the most fun work, but it always feels good to get it done (or almost done–I have more niggling format issues to conquer tomorrow).