I'm fighting a migraine, but at least the house is warm and I'm not driving anywhere in a snowstorm. Starting on Tuesday, I'll be off again on another teaching jaunt, this time introducing a few K-12 teaching techniques to Smith College poetry students. Somehow, though, in this week's hiatus between the Solstice job and the Smith job,  I've managed to write and revise two new poems, which brings my total number of new pieces since Christmas to four . . . five, if I count the constructive revisions on another troublesome draft.

These five are included now in a folder of twelve uncollected pieces that are beginning to accrue into a nascent book. I've even gotten to the point of recognizing a few thematic arcs, so I've begun calling the folder Songbook, which I occasionally spell to myself as Song Book. Which do you like better? The name is likely to change, but for the moment it works as a thought-handle.

And it's funny how an alphabetical table of contents can be its own sort of accidental poem.

Commonplace
Eight-Track-Tape Player
The Gift
Harm
John Doe's Threnody
Lingua Franca
Mr. Kowalski
Route 9
A Tale from the Old Country
This Guy in the Mug Shot
Wealhtheow
Your Fate