summer lit the blowtorch and is scorching everything in the air and on the ground. man, it is goddam hots! triple-digit hot, which makes the walk home from work an adventure in sweating. but it wouldn't be summer without days that feel like the surface of the sun.

received el pobre mouse from SF poet kyle kaufman. a kickass diy journal, saddle-stapled, inked and glued with some terrific work by kaufman himself, Jim Goar, Dylan Hock, kari edwards and a poet new to me Lee Ballentine. and many others, this is my kind of publishing.

also been reading the latest 580 Split and digging the poems of C.S. Carrier and Padcha Tuntha-obas . the journal keeps getting better.

it is almost 11:30 pm and it is still damn hot. sheez!