Ran outside to look at ducks. There was a female duck being pursued by two male ducks and she was not having it. There was a lot of duck drama. Duck drama is infinitely better than people drama, although people drama has better costumes.

Went over some poems by the awesome Bri Cavallaro and sent her back comments. Am thinking about printing out Fair Copy and looking at it again. Look look look. The idea of reordering it or revising it makes me feel all hivey all over. I could easily do the same thing to Vow but I have far less distance from that. I think it needs to sit a while and think about what it’s done.

Aase Berg’s With Deer keeps grossing me out. I keep returning to it. It’s like scab picking. But, you know, with great language.

I turn 33 tomorrow. I sometimes find myself amazed at my age. Not because I feel young; I often don’t. But whenever there is a birthday I think about how the past self really has no conception of the future self. You can only look backwards and see (depending on what you’re standing on) clearly. You can project forward but that’s all conjecture, and in my case, rarely has been right.

There are little kids throwing rocks into the river. Looks like the right idea.