that's it. every time i opened the damn file i fucked with the texts even more. so i put the final dot on my loops chap and sent it off so it can learn to walk on its own. now i can sit back and start to fuss over my wood sonnets, and a new collection that hasn't been written yet but is beginning to stir and want to take expression. and i'm addicted to a collaboration project that i'm currently working on with a poet-friend. we are on our 7th poem so far and i literally feel like a junky who can't wait for the next fix as we send emails back and forth during the day. oh, oh and i got a few reviews to do.

well, dookie. and but so, one of my favorite poets is william wantling, who was active in the small-press scene during the 1960s and early 1970s. he died in 1974 from i think a drug overdose. all his books are out of print. i have one and photocopied 2 from sac state's library. i also have a commemorative chapbook, a selection of wantling's poems, published in 1994 and edited by kevin jones, a local teacher/writer, who penned his phd dissertation on wantling.

there is more now of wantling on the net. u.k. poet ian seed's new zine shadowtrain published a whole issue devoted to the late poet, which includes an article by jones. i'm glad to see a good poet get the attention his work long deserved.

and speaking of seed, i became aware of him a couple of years ago from martin stannard's old blog, which is again now active here thru seed's poems, esp. his prose poems, and reviews. he's a poet who appears to be bridging the divide between highly experimental work and the more earthy language of small-press writing. a practice that i can't quite articulate why it so appeals to me but had me at go.