Hey Z

On my way home from Pilates this morning I drove down the wrong side of the median (like an asshole) for about 10 seconds before I realized what I was doing. This was on a road I've been driving on almost every day for the past 10 years.

Does this mean I'm tired?

No more operating heavy machinery until I get a nap.

I found an interesting review of No Tell that wonders whether or not we're superficial and thinks some of the poems we publish sacrifice feeling. The reviewer feels many of the poems suffer from overly self-conscious girliness or sexiness. Not sure what's wrong with that. Isn't there room for the girlie girls at the big poetry table too? Can't we all just be who we really are and stop trying to act like poets?

Oh and we're not "desperate" (that's a TV show), we're naughty. Big difference.

There were a few nice things written too, but I'm only focusing on the less flattering because that's what I do. Of course Molly and I disagree with all the critical comments (we wouldn't have picked the poems if we didn't think they kicked ass).

I simply can't imagine reading a Karl Parker poem and not instantly falling in love.


Oh Carrboro, I only tasted a drop of the moonshine. Why do I feel like I drank the whole jar?