The new poems I wrote this summer are starting to find homes. So far I've gotten acceptances for four of them, which feels like a surprising success rate, given the slow machinery of journals' submission-reading process. For the moment, though, I'm not writing any new ones. With two editing projects on my desk and a third in the wings, plus some teaching dates looming, I've had to shunt poem-making to the side. Still, I don't feel as if my ability to write has vanished; more like I'm refrigerating it for later use. This in itself is a good sensation. During my last long writing drought, my body felt as if the poetry ichor had drained entirely away. I was the husk of a poet. Now, even though I'm not currently writing, I feel as if the ichor is pulsing and bubbling in my veins. Yes, the mixed metaphors are running amok here, but so be it.

Anyway, this is all leading to an RIII schedule hiccup. I was supposed to be teaching middle schoolers this Friday morning, but now I'm supposed to be teaching them next Tuesday morning--and when I say morning I mean "crack of dawn, kids have just rolled out of bed and barely have their eyes open, plus the visiting writer has a half-hour commute" morning. Which is to say: I will not be opening the blog for comments until later in the day.