Mathias and I are happy hostesses. Clean Part #4 was awesome. Thank again to Hadara, Josh and Dora, Tugboat, Denny, Kuhl's Diner for the pie, the poetry-hungry crowd, my parents, your parents. Here are some pics:


The welcome table at Clean Part #4. From left to right: bottled water, bowl of peanuts, things to make coffee, raffle tickets for pie. Not pictured: bowl of Octopus and Clean Part buttons.


Hadara Bar-Nadav reading. The missing picture from Mathias' recap.


Jim Galvin came to town to see the reading y'all. That's right. Jim Galvin was at Clean Part not reading. Also: Dora Malech and Joshua Edwards post-reading. Hadara on the right, extending even another hand. All the readers were incredible. Thanks to them. My hand too extends.



D-Schmick and Joey Lynch. The top of the indie art-world food chain. D goes to work for the man tomorrow. Best of luck to him.


I had enough poetry for one night. It was time to get schnookered.


Your 2006 Juniper Prize winner, Michael Dumanis.


Ashley and Mathias. They were very happy all night except for this one millisecond that I happened to capture.

I want to give a shout out to my moms. Happy Mother's Day.

A and I are going up to the farm north of Columbus, NE, for Mother's Day festivities today. Eat real food. Play board games.

The 4th Clean Part went swimmingly. I'll have all the news for you, and pics of poets as soon as I get back.

If you're going to just sit around all day on Saturday, and not do squat, you might as well come to Clean Part at 7pm at Tugboat. Dora Malech. Joshua Edwards. A chance to win a pie.

There is a charming little write-up on Octopus over at the Cruelest Month (the blog of Harper Collins). It seems that PW article has brought our little space some attention, but with it comes some monster mispellings. Oh, Wony Wost, such great wimes we had.

Thanks for the heads up Reb.

Derby weekend was lovely. Didn't win a dime. But we did get to stay in a Settle Inn. Last night, M and I started into the mannies. There are many mannies. And nearly all that we read last night packed some amount of wallop. I can tell already, we will be saying no to some very worthy manuscripts.

Corn Job Day #1: planted and labeled reserve seeds all morning in the greenhouse. This job'll be something.

Ok. I'm off to the Kentucky Derby to bet on the ponies. Here's my preliminary pick for Saturday (I want to timestamp it and prove it in case it hits): 1. AP Warrior 2. Bob and John 3. Brother Derek

Best of luck with your own wagers.

It has been a terrrrrific day for getting good books. In my mailbox at school: a borrowed copy of Greg Kuzma's Harry's Things. It is so rare it hardly exists. And it is prime Kuzma: 1971. And Phil Cordelli sent me The Pines Volume 3: Knights of Columbus. These two things are going to be at my side this summer while I beef up this new mannie I've been working on. And Ugly Duckling sent me Peter Gizzi's A Panic that Can Still Come Upon Me and 6x6 #11. Oh, and last week Dalkey Archive Press sent me Jacques Roubaud's The Form of the City Changes Faster, Alas, Than the Human Heart translated by the Waldrops: Yes! Yes! Read read read.

Today is a good day. It is nice out. I just finished up my semester with a strong showing on my History of Modern Russia final exam (a collateral field in my PhD in poetry) and I finished a strong, I think, seminar paper in post-colonial poetics. I'm done for the summer being a student.

Things to come:

1. grading lots of essays.

2. A and I are going to Des Moines' Prairie Meadow race track to meet up with my pops and bet on the live ponies and the Kentucky Derby ponies this weekend.

3. Monday I start my corn job.

4. Mathias and I got a pretty impressive amount of chap mannies for Octopus #8. Very enthused/overwhelmed/anxious/eager. I'll spend a terrific chunk of my May evenings reading those gems after a long hot day toiling in the fields.

Other news (good):

1. I got a TA for next fall and spring. This lifts some significant burdens/stress.

2. Check me out in the new Typo.

3. Check me out in the new Summer 2006 international issue of the Washington Square Review. I'm sharing space with Darwish.

Clean Part #4: Saturday, May 13. 7pm

Today is the last day of April. It turns out the mountain of manuscripts is actually a volcano. I can hear it rumbling.

Procrastinated a little more last night because Born Into This came via Netflix. Eh. Not a bad doc-po-mentary, but I must say I'm over it/him now. I moved on a while back, but now officially.

Ok. I'm coming up for a bit of air. A busy week. Then after next Tuesday, I must put on the teacher hat and grade a pile of essays. Then it is summertime.

I want to tell you I am in first place in my fantasy baseball league. Today might be the only day I get to say that, so I didn't want to miss the chance.

I got my free first issue of Practice yesterday. I've been flipping through it the past few days and I even ate a peanut butter sandwich on my front porch with it yesterday. I haven't been this impressed with a new print-issue poetry journal since, um, Canary or Spork or ______ or ____. Its beautiful and smart and well-funded. Watch out.

The last week of PhD school at UNL is this week and I have a load of academic hulabaloo to crap out. But it was too nice out today for that. Too nice for post-colonial poetics. Too nice for Eastern European avant-gardes. So I did yardwork. This is my first spring as a homeowner. It was really fun. I spent way too much money at Earl May this morning. Then spent the entire morning and afternoon getting my thumbs green. And I got to listen to the Cubs lose while doing it (damn you Derek Lee). Look at those perfectly arranged day lillies. Look at those geraniums in the flower boxes. Look at that golden mulch.

At some point yesterday, all of the following things happened: 1. Lost four pages of my longish paper on current avant-gardes as off-shoots of the found poem, just a few hours before I was to turn it in and present it to the class. 2. Got off the bus to arrive at my car to discover I left my keys on campus. 3. Walked back to campus while 60 blocks away at a different campus my class sits and waits for me to show up. 4 Got on the wrong bus. 5. My peanut butter and jelly sandwich was very stale.

This weekend marks the beginning of the end of the semester. 30 pages or so left to write. I'm writing really good poems right now though. I'm sneaking them between term paper paragraphs. In two weeks or so: I retire to the corn and read lots of chap mannines for #8. Aaah.

Reading my poetry for five minutes tomorrow at the very special No Name. I'm going to see how many short poems I can read in that amount of time. I'm bringing a stop watch, or something with an alarm. And I'm reading for five minutes again the following Thursday for the department. It'll be thrilling. 10 total minutes of awesome.

I've been keeping my eye on this bear parade. I'm fasinated by it--it's web of curious links and Tao Lin and whatnot. Anyway, it has come time for you to look at it if you haven't already. Michael Earl Craig is one of my favs, hands down. I will touch his omelet if he tells me to.

It has been February since we've last thrown a Clean Part. So, I'm happy to tell you we've booked two for the coming months. Dora Malech and Joshua Edwards on May 13. Juliet Patterson, Paula Cisewski, and Sarah Fox for June 17. Mark your calendars. Plan you summer vacations around them.

I took my very first poetry class at C of O my sophomore year with a few cool people (see pic below for two of them). I knew nothing of poetry before then. Maybe a little Frost or something. But I'm telling you, I just wasn't interested. I was into journalism or something. Then Professor Paul Gianoli showed us a few Russell Edson poems. I had no idea what poetry was or could be. I had no idea it could be fun to write. This was my gateway drug into an entire new world, new life, etc. I bought The Tunnel, and from there I have not looked back.

So, I want to thank Mathias, who gave me this rare chapbook of Edson poems for my birthday. I'm not sure M knew Edson was the first poet I had ever really read, but he knew I was a fan. And that Mr. Edson has ignored about 20 emails from Octopus. Anyway, that's not the story I wanted to tell.

This book, Edson's Mentality, was published in the year I was born. It was a special edition issue of an old mag called Oink! You jealous?

1. I've been sleeping with Sleeping with the Dictionary. We'll be discussing it in Post-Colonial Poetics today along with Oulipo, Black Arts Movement, black aesthetics, etc. Should be 2.5 solid hours of mind-blowing po-nerd conversation. This is what I quit dispatching for.

2. At mid-month, the chap mannies have piled up pretty high for #8. I'm not sure we knew what numbers to expect, but it has been quite the trial to not rip them open and devour them too soon. I can not wait to read these things of yours.

3. I got that corn job I was talking about earlier. I'll be getting dirt in my fingernails under the hot sun in the fields all day, then coming home and reading your poetry manuscripts at night. This sounds like a good dream to me.

4. Also, if you didn't know already, there's this, with an Octopus nod and a few quotes from me in it. Read it first, then read this, this, this, and a defense. I have only linked here the boy-bloggers who have weighed in on this issue. I'll let you link around to find some women blogger comments on this topic in the dark underbelly of the female blogosphere.

I was nosing through Tony's flikr account and stumbled across this beaut of myself, Tony and Riley (circa 1998?) back during our C of O days in Tony's south-of-Branson trailer. I have never before seen this picture. What are we drinking? What am I wearing? I look so athletic. Man Alive. I look so young and tan and virile. I was such a stud.

Our good neighbors, P and L, had a baby boy today. We went to the hospital tonight to see little J. Its amazing really. It is pretty rare that I ever hold a newborn in my arms. I can think of only two or three. It just seems so strange--this person was born today, a few hours ago. It reminded me that there was an exact beginning to this long ride. Anyway, a real honor. You caught me in a mood.

Friday night. Denny's show went swimmingly. Lots of people showed up. They were all touching Denny's arms and saying congratulatory things to him. This pic was taken before they showed up. Denny made the wallpaper.
















Then we went to the show at Tugboat. A and I were pretty fascinated with paintings by this guy named Nolan. Here is A in awe.















Here are other people in awe.

Had a lovely b-day dinner with A and the 'rents and my sister. Got a few more presents (revolutionary shaving cream now that I'm shaving my face again, and a small rubber girl with bat wings). Then tonight A and I will got rocked by Eagle-Seagull at Denny's thesis show. Tomorrow maybe a little Huskers vs Mizzou baseball. Then after that, I must buckle down and write some papers. It's academic crunch time for the next two weeks. I need to write papers on Marisol Limon Martinez's After You Dearest Language, Harryette Mullen's Sleeping with the Dictionary, a longer one discussing the politics of found poetry, and a really long one on the internet's hand in shaping/unshaping post-colonial poetics/theory.

But instead I wrote a review on Chris Tonelli's short poem chapbook, Wide Tree. Maybe you should not do your homework and read it.

I'm 29!

Corn Job

I think I may have secured myself a job in a cornfield for this summer. I'll find out on Friday for sure. Planting. Maintaining. Spreading chemical stuff. Cross-pollinating the crop by hand. I'll be helping out a team of agronomists on several corn experiments, like for yield and whatnot.

I've always wanted to work long hot days in a cornfield. Check.

Do you think I'm joking? Because I'm not.

I'm turning 29 this week and I got an early birthday present from A, P&C, and N&B. They went in together to buy an iPod. I'm hip now, like the kids. And just in time too. I'll probably be mowing lawns or working in some dirt in some field somewhere this summer, and an iPod will make perfect company. I spent all day yesterday putting about half of my catalog onto this thing. I've revisited some stuff I forgot I had. Some stuff that should never be forgotten: Yo La Tengo, The Rentals, older Hayden, the Clean, Kissing Book, Kleenex Girl Wonder, Sportsguitar, etc.

Thank you thank you APCNB.

Also: Mathias is knocking out some amazing creation myths this month.

Denny's show, Universal Remote, starts this week.

Go Baseball.

Last night we went to a fish fry in Omaha with our neighbors, drank too much, didn't eat any fish. This weekend we're tackling taxes, yardwork, housework, homework, and MLB opening day. It is a beautiful day here in Nebraska. I want to go climb a tree and eat a sandwich in it.

This morning I woke up to a heavy thunderstorm. This makes me very happy. I want nothing more than to spend the morning watching Goonies. But I will forge ahead academically, do the second best thing. The finger puppets and I must read for class this afternoon. Certifiable by Pamela Mordecai. And I may slip in some extra reading between sections: Brandon Shimoda and Mathias Svalina's manuscripts, a little Fence, a little Lug Your Careless Body (returning to it), a little End of Rude Handles. Thunder. Rain on the window.

I've signed up for classes. My Fall 2006 lineup:

Poetry: "The Avant Garde" (taught by Anthony Hawley)
Poetry Tutorial (taught by Ted Kooser)
Beginning Russian

Thank you Amanda Nadelberg for your awesome book. I read it straight through the night I got it. It is a little like a Tate book for me, in that I promise myself just one more, Zach, then put it down and wash the dishes. But each poem is so easily read, so fun and quirked out, so strangely emotional, that I am compelled to read the next one, then the next, until there are only 10 more, then I tell myself that I may as well read the last 10. Many of them read really well if sitting on the floor of a bedroom, legs crossed, with finger puppet monsters. My finger puppet monsters read these well. You've made a fan of me.

Yesterday's reading went swimmingly. Some terrific people showed up. The poems went into some good ears. I like reading. Want to do it more.

Going to Omaha/Council Bluffs today to show M and J my old stomping grounds. Show them where the z became the Z. Why am I talking like a pro-wrestler today?

I'm reading at the No Name today at 4pm. Lincoln, NE. You should come. I'll be rocking some of the old standbys, the sure things, and taking risks with some of the new stuff. The stuff no one has heard/read before. Should be a great 20 minutes. For me, at least.

I am in love with Designer Denny Schmickle. He does all the pro-bono design work for Octopus (he did those broadsheets too I was talking about a few weeks back, which will soon be available at an Octopus Books site that I'll let you know about soon), and the posters for Clean Part. And many other beautiful things. Anyway he has his MFA thesis show (Universal Remote) April 3-12 at the Eisentrager Howard Gallery in Richards Hall on UNL's campus. There'll be a reception on Saturday, April 7, from 5-7 pm and Eagle*Seagull (he designed their site too) is going to bring the rock.

And I'm very very excited about the following: for part of his show, he designed these books, see, of two of my poems (The Whale and Ottoman Empire, the). I'm calling them very limited edition one-off publications from Universal Remote. You should come by then and see them. Pick them up and touch them.

Check em.

We're buried in snow here. No school. I have a lot to do at school. Hmm. So, I'll be reading a lot today for class. Mong Lan's Why is the Edge Always Windy? and Marisol Limon Martinez's After You Dearest Language, and some other various texts.

Maybe first I'll make some hot cocoa with whipped cream. Maybe you could too. Curl up with that knitted blanket and read my review of Ryan Murphy's The Gales at Cutbank.

I have had a string of good acceptances lately: Typo, Washington Square Review, Action Yes, and a new print journal from Julia Cohen and company called Same Storm.

Getting it out there so you can see it.

We're dogsitting for C and P. G, A, and I went for a early morning walk in the snow.

Ok. Off for a haircut. Sending off broadsheets (our printer people weren't quite on the ball here). Celebrating St. Patty's and birthdays with the 'rents tonight. Then, with less hair on my head/face, I'll grade papers this weekend, write poems.

If you're not a baseball fan, the following will bore you to death. But I promise not to use this blog as a fantasy baseball venue from here on out (except for the occasional gloat here and there).

Here's what I managed to scrounge together in my fantasy baseball draft last night (not bad for a league 18 teams deep):

C. Mike Piazza. After Victor Martinez, all catchers are pretty much the same, statistically I think. And, I'll admit, a little nostalgia is at work here. At least I didn't pick Sammy Sosa. No one did.

1B. Jim Thome. I've been hooked on this guy since I ate the Thome Triple at McDonalds. So beefy. So cheesy. Packed with homeruns.

2B. Ray Durham. Hey, the draft was low on quality second basemen, and I waited too long. Lets just hope he starts most of the time.

3B. Aramis Ramirez. 100 RBIs. 35 HRs. Solid pick.

SS. David Eckstein. He's a little twirp who has little natural ability. But the kid has heart. He's good filler. Won't kill the team.

LF. Carl Crawford. I'll be toward the top of the league in SBs because of this guy alone. Solid all around. Stongest and most dependable guy I got.

CF. JD Drew. He's either a sleeper or a bust. He's made of glass, but so is his ceiling (all these lines are mine, especially that last one. I could write for a really bad fantasy mag).

RF. Jermaine Dye. 80 RBIs. 30 HRs. In the middle of a solid White Sox lineup. This was my late round steal if I may say so.

UTIL/OF. Jacques Jones. Carl Everett. Gary Matthews, Jr. Darin Erstad (my boy).

___
My pitching is solid. I passed up Johan Santana to get Carl Crawford, but I think I cleaned up afterward. Lots of Red Sox. Lots of K's in this rotation.

SP. Dontrelle Willis. Josh Beckett. John Lackey. Cliff Lee. Matt Clement. Tim Wakefield.

RP. Dan Wheeler. Chris Reitsma. David Riske. Wheeler has a great chance of being the closer if Lidge gets hurt. He's lights out. Reitsma will start the season as the closer, but I don't imagine he'll last too long.

Tonight is my fantasy baseball draft. I'll be sure to show you my lineup tomorrow. Anyway, I'm very giddy about this. I'm a nerd for baseball. Have I not told you this before?

And tomorrow is St. Patrick's Day, which means I'll be shaving my beard off.

I might give myself a haircut too. I'm suspecting the transition might look like this:

Here are 3 more leftover pics if you are interested. I consider each of them a strong candidate for bookjacket author photos.


Mathias.


Adam.


Myself and the Podcast Pickle holding hands. He is a sweet pickle.

Here is a list of my bookfair booty. I have a lot to read. We'll try to get a review of some of these in Octopus. Anyone interested?

Poetry Society of America:
Idra Novey's The Next Country
Misty Harper's Guarding the Violin
Stuart Greenhouse's What Remains
Cecily Parks' Cold Work

Black Ocean Press:
Paula Cisewski's Upon Arrival
DJ Dolack's The Sad Meal (Eye for an Iris Chapbook - Black Ocean's imprint)

Hangman Chapbooks:
Clay Matthew's Muffler

Kitchen Press:
Matt Rasmussen's Fingergun
Chris Tonelli's Wide Tree (signed!)
Justin Marks' You Being You by Proxy
Ana Bozicevic-Bowling's Morning News

Anhinga Press:
Joshua Poteat's Ornithologies

Wave Books:
Mary Ruefle's A Little White Shadow*
Anthony McCann's Moon Garden
Eric Baus The To Sound (Verse)*
Caroline Knox's A Beaker - New and Selected Poems (Verse)*

Soft Skull:
Michael Turner's The Pornographer's Poem
Danielle Pafunda's Pretty Young Thing*
Daniel Nester's God Save My Queen I and II
Todd Colby's Tremble and Shine
Jerome Sala's Look Slimmer Instantly

Red Morning Press:
Jen Tynes' The End of Rude Handles*
Sean Norton's Bad with Faces

Futurepoem:
Shanxing Wang's Mad Science in Imperial City

University of Iowa Press:
Joshua Marie Wilkinson's Lug You Careless Body Out of the Careful Dusk*

Fence Books:
Martin Corless-Smith's Swallows
Geraldine Kim's Povel*

Slope Editions:
Jonah Winter's Maine**

The Pines Press:
Brandon Shimoda and Phil Cordelli's The Pines Volume 2*

*denotes what I am most excited about reading.
**denotes what I am most excited about re-reading (I only borrowed my previous copy).

And Brandon Shimoda should be sending me his manuscript -in-progress soon. Whew. Ok. To my favorite chair. A little lamp. Fireplace.

AWP Wrap

This is it. That table.


Mathias. Tony Robinson's lady. Adam. At the Effing Reading.


Joshua Marie and Richard Greenfield.


Betsy Wheeler. Mathias. Adam.


Tiny Adam at the Lit Reading.


Tiny Matt at the Lit Reading.


Me. I killed, I'm told. I was too nervous to know. But it sounded good from what I could tell.


Me again. My banter stance.


Joshua. Katie in the background.


Mathias. Matt. Mathias is pinching Matt's armpit.


I'm not buying what Brandon is selling.


Josh. Adam. Mathias.


Brandon. My leg.


Brandon pining through the window over Austin.


Mathias. Adam. The back of Tony Robinson's head.

---------------
AWP wrap-ups are the best. And full of linkety-links. My camera broke at mid-Austin trip. So, I'll may pirate more pics for you later.

The people are what make the conference. I love people and I roomed with the best of them: Brandon Shimoda, Adam Clay and Mathias Svalina. It was so good to share such a small space with them, one toilet and one shower. You should've seen all four of us poetry nerds manuevering for slumber space on that little double bed. It was precious I'm sure. We spent much of our time hanging with Matt Henriksen, who I have never met before, his wife Katie, and Joshua Marie Wilkinson, who I have met before as he read at the Clean Part, and forever friend Tony Tost, who I love dearly, etc.

Wednesday night, Brandon, Adam, Mathias, Joshua and I had a few drinkypoos and discussed strategy. On Thursday, the same group with Katie and Matt hit this great Cuban restaurant. Terrific cuban sandwich. Soggy fries. We passed by Anne Boyer and K. Silem Mohammed. Oh. Hello. This town was drenched in poets. If it would have blown up, the next decade of poetry would have been pretty weak. Noah Eli Gordon (who was not there) would have cleaned up on even more poetry contests. Later, we hit the Effing party. Better readers, in total, than the LIT party, I think, but they were a little more difficult to hear. So, I hung back and chatted it up, met a few people I've always wanted to meet: Reb Livingston, Jen Tynes, Nick Twemlow, Joshua Edwards, Anthony Robinson, Julie Dill, Tom Christopher (I love this guy), et al. Joshua, Mathias, Matt, Katie, Adam, Brandon, Betsy Wheeler, Katie and I went back to the hotel room and had this killer conversation while kicking back a few more brews and passing the laptop around. We pulled out some phrases from the conversation and made a brilliant long poem. Some of the best lines in town. I'm not kidding. Some of you mag editors will find this in your submit box under a pseudonym, which I will not disclose, and you will take it. And you will later nominate it for a pushcart. That night, in the room, good lines floating through the Hilton air, was a highlight--top 2.

As for the other highlight: the LIT reading. Before the LIT reading Friday night, we went to the Action Books reading. This is one of my favorite new presses. It may have broken into the top five already (top 6), at such an early age. One of my favorite younger poets killed. Lara Glenum. Yes! She read the poem from the broadsheet we did (from Octopus #7) and her "Hairiest Room" which I've read in her book about 20 times out loud to myself, wishing I had written it. Thank you Lara, for it all. From there, I walked with Danielle Pafunda to our LIT reading. I have long wanted to chat with her. It was good. The walk was too short. But her part of the reading was wonderful. I was in a trance. Also got to see a new favorite Chris Tonelli read, my favorite being the poem with a butthole in it. I won't repeat it. You should buy his book. And I got to hear Shanna Compton and Laurel Snyder and Matt Henriksen and Adam Clay too. Lovely readers. Thank you Justin for setting this all up. My part of the reading went over pretty well. I read in a jar of nerves but could hear a few hoots and hollas in the muffled background. Claps. I think I am best when I am nervous. It comes off as hilarious deadpan, to quote a few other bloggers. Anyway, some people I really wanted to hear me read were in that audience (Tony T hasn't heard me since our undergrad days). I gained some confidence reading up there, in front of the rock wall, in front of all those people. A lot of poets I truly admire, at the reading and at the fair, told me those poems are deserving of a press. I believe them. They are deserving. So.

Our bookfair home was the buzz. Octopus shared a table with Typo and Copper Nickle. And a few other wares were sold from our hub as well: Justin Marks' Kitchen Press, Matt and Katie's Cannibal, Brandon Shimoda's Pines. Mathias and I sold all 4 sets of 16 broadsheets (see earlier post - and check later: I'll give you a link to the Octopus Books site we're working on which will still sell two of the broadsheets which are not limited by signature and number). Shook some important hands and made a few tentative plans for Clean Part readers. And we did a good job of getting the word out about #8. Should be a good selection of mannies to read from in April. Oh, man. Oh, man. Looking forward. You should be too.

I missed some of my old peeps from Montana, but I met some new ones. Hit it off well with Nabil. And the rest. I had lunch with them. A chipotle burger. Brandon, fill these names in. And I hate Jake Adam York couldn't be there. Teague and the rest of us did well with the Copper Nickles. And Donald Revell. Hated that he couldn't be there to sign the broadsheets.

It is good to be home. I missed A and it'll be good to catch up with her. This is UNL's spring break. Lots of homework to do. Papers to grade. Mail these broadsheets off. I have a notebook full of poem ideers that could keep me up all night, every night this week. And lots of books. I'm going to list them all in the next post. I need to give my knuckles a rest first. Ok.

I'm just now unzipping my man-suit and crawling out. Dirty clothes. Books to my ears. I want to tell you all about my AWP in Austin and will. It was double killer. But first I must re-learn everything about my routine, and how to get back to it. And I must scramble together some pictures for you. Take a nap and come back.

Unpacking. Packing. I'm now shuffling papers and folding trousers for the trip to Austin. I'm very excited for this little adventure. If you want to ask me in person how excited I am, stop by the Octopus/Typo/Copper Nickle/StorySouth table. We'll give you a button. Sell you a cheap t-shirt or a beautiful broadsheet designed by Denny. You should see how these things turned out:


Jen Knox's "Poster in the Waiting Room: Phantom Arm" from #5


Donald Revell's "Thinking in the World" from #4


Lara Glenum's "How to Discard the Life You've Now Ruined" from #7



Daniil Kharms' "One Man Fell Asleep a Believer..." translated by Eugene Ostashevsky from #7


And we'll answer all your questions about #8.

Also, I'll be reading at the LIT reading with some of my po-heroes. See you around.

Just now back from Coloradio with the in-laws. Our little vacation went swimmingly--some quality quality time spent on the slopes and drinking alcoholic beverages illegally in the hot tub. My own highlights: the ribs at Bubba's douse in kicking mule sauce which burned a tasty and fiery hole in the back of my throat, board games, Hamlet's bookstore, the view behind my pita at Vail's mid-mountain eatery, not biffing it. Here are some pics:


Z and M. Z is downs with the Browns. M hogs the remote.



Z and A. Z is skiing for Canada.


M had a little accident the second day. She put her ski pole through her bottom lip while trying to hot dog it. I wasn't sure what to do for her, so I snapped a picture. She's alright.


Downtown Hair is alright with me. Downtown Fort Morgan Colorado.


Downtown Breckenridge. Looks like C told a joke. P thought it was outrageous. A thought it was just ok.


A. Just before she sprinted down the Rattler.

Now I'm quickly on to the next trip: Austin. Tomorrow I'll give a pre-cap before me-plane jets off.

Ok. I'm all packed and ready for our trip westward with A, M, C, and P, to the mountains. Ski ski ski drink eat soak ski.I've got my candy cigarettes, slinky eyeball glasses, tuxedo shirts, camera, and everything else important. All weekend AWP preparations for Octopus have been dumped on Mathias. I'll be back Monday, with pictures, and a tentative AWP itinerary. Then a much needed (to catch up on homework) Spring Break. The next two weeks=goodness.

Wow. Lots to do before AWP. This weekend, the in-laws are taking A and I to the Rockies for skiing, hot tubs, beer, beer in the hot tub, and food. I'm very excited about all this. Since moving from Montana to Lincoln, A and I have really missed the mountains. Our hearts ache a bit when we see pictures of them. The mountains in Nebraska aren't as impressive. So, the trip will be needed. I'll be sure to report back with pics.

This does, however, put even more pressure on Mathias and I regarding our AWP preparations. We have cool stuff to show you--hope we can pull it all off before our plane leaves. Aaaah.

AWP note: Justin Marks of Lit, invited me to read some poems alongside Adam Clay (who we'll be shacking up with (and Brandon Shimoda)), Sam Starkweather, and Randall Mann, and maybe, just maybe, Matt Henriksen. This little event is sponsored by LIT, Kitchen Press, and Redivider. It will be on Friday night, 9pm, at Club de Ville.