This morning, I received the good news that Vox Populi will be publishing my essay on heartbreak.
Writing a sentence that includes both good news and heartbreak does feel odd, though, really, all the words under my fingers suddenly seem to be important and prescient. Despite my crazed spring-cleaning/garden-digging/overwrought-son-propping-up blitz, I've found myself suddenly bubbling over with ideas for new poems, with inspiration from Trollope, track meets, the pileated woodpecker hopping up the driveway (that was a peculiar sight), and so on, and so on. My poetry mind feels alive.
Trout lilies are blooming, trilliums are budding, asparagus is poking up through the compost, dandelions are flaunting, violets are uncurling, pond and tree frogs are burbling and squeaking and buzzing, spring is a breathless rush, and comma splices are required.