opening a barrel of wine & finding yr manuscript

what is sure to be a long, stressful week i find myself tempted in my longing for a sort of writing that brings forth catullus and his scatological, lusty, sensuality. indeed, my own reading habits move from the l=a=n=g=s to visual to post-beat to lyric to formal to [for really isn't there a better word for this] post-avant, and every permutation inbetween. in other words, i'm not catholic in my tastes.

when i read thru my own work i find - and i'm not a good judge of my own work for i am too close to it - my subjects gravitate toward the same sort of things, drugs, music, movies, street people and walking. on my newest chap [i'll make a formal announcement very soon] anna asked me after reading it that maybe i've exhausted these veins?

i don't know, but if i can have a poetic conceit [don't we all share in some conceits, see our writings in some light with both an eye for tradition, as well as the present, and thinking about the future too?] that maybe, even a little bit, that the ancient roman poet catullus might nod in approval upon reading my poems. and why not think that, all poets living and dead are brothers and sisters. might not be the most happy family and certainly one of the most dysfunctional, but it is a family and what we all share and relate to is a love of words and writing.

so then anyway, i'll have a couple of book publication announcements in a bit. life is life after all and writing is part of my life. a big part, maybe not the most important part, but it is a life just the same.