bits

Hey, Javier, how about we both write poems titled "Poem of Social Conscience Written in an Overheated Language that Will Undoubtedly Consign It to Oblivion?" I'll put my version in my second book ms. Ha!
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I really like this show.
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Just for the record: I wasn't whining about not getting a residency in my earlier post. I'm not that type of writer. I'm happy and thrilled when I get something, but I quickly move on. My writing life isn't defined by awards, fellowships, or residencies. Though you wouldn't know that by reading the bio on my blog. Damn! I should prune back my bio.
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The latest installment of In the Grove is up and running.
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Did I tell you that I killed my nephew's fish? I noticed the water in the bowl was dirty. So I took out the fish, poured out the water, rinsed the rocks, etc. Then I refilled the bowl. With warm water! I put the fish into the bowl; it was dead in less than ten minutes! I'm a terrible uncle.
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I'm kinda of nervous about having my poems workshopped at Bread Loaf. I haven't been in a workshop in ages. I'm a bit rusty. Am I supposed to bring an apple for the teacher? Or a bottle of gin?
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Are you a Latino/ Chicano MFA student who reads my blog? If so, say hi! Drop me an email. I don't bite. It's important we make connections.
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Currently, I'm reading James Galvin's As Is and the ms of a brand new MFA graduate.
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C. Dale Young gave me a gentle spanking.