smoke signals

early forms of communication as sculpted at the entrance of Grande École Télécom ParisTech; wikimedia

early forms of communication as sculpted at the entrance of Grande École Télécom ParisTech; wikimedia

Holy smokes, Reader, where were we?

I had gone fishing. You had done whatever it is you do. There was a cross-country flight (upon which I realized the plane I was flying on is bigger than my whole house). There was a summer bug — or as I now think of it, The Germ of the Devil Himself — and several fuzzy days. There was a laundry festival, then a big nap, and now here I am again sending up smoke signals to say so.

Slowly, I’m cranking the household and the poetry operation back into “running” mode after our vacation. Emphasis on slowly. For example, there has been no poeming yet this week. Also for example, there’s no way in hell I’m cooking dinner tonight.

But I wanted to check in to say hello, and to say: stay tuned. I have several more author interviews coming up, a new art obsession to tell you about, and some vacation-steeped thoughts on process. On the other hand, I also have a camping trip and some serious back-to-school tasks to take care of over the next 21 days. Not that I’m counting days or anything. So I’ll be here and gone a bit, but more here than gone.

Meanwhile, I hope you’re having a wonderful summer with a little bit of here and gone, too.

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