I NEED AN EXECUTIVE ASSISTANT
quite obviously. I've spent the last couple of days correcting some errors and typos in Galatea Resurrects' new issue. This, while, right after I released the issue, I had to dive right back into my To-Do pile...as we speak, I'm going over the proofs of my next (early 2007) book...This blasted Poetry insisting that the blind read!
Why can't I just write my effin' poems, I waaaaaaail over the mountain -- Moi standing at its edge dripping white feathers off into the void?!!!!
Ah -- but Poetry ain't words, now is it?!
What is Poetry? you ask?
As it's December, Artemis, Galatea's white cat, reminds, Poetry is MANY things but also that:
POETRY IS A GIFT!
One of the Fallen Angels dropped off from the poker game beneath Moi's ceiling to masquerade as an Elf this holiday season. It just better keep scampering away whenever I see it. BECAUSE IF I CATCH YOU, YOU ELFISH ANGEL, I'MA GONNA PICK YOU UP AND KICK YOU WITH MY HIGH-HEELED FOOT AS IF YOU ARE A FOOTBALL! You hear me? Dang Poetry!