I try not to criticize God, it's a big job and all, but it does irritate me the way that he lets everything pile up in his "Dale Favier" inbox and then deals with it all at once. So that we are knee-deep in buying and selling houses at the same time as I have terrific ideas for no less than three books to write, and I'm going first-timers through the thrilling process of revising and proofing a book for the best editor in the world (how can one book of poems be such a complicated enterprise?) and am snowed under at work while everyone else is busy with the Russian delegation (since when do local Library Foundations deal with Russian delegations?) and Martha has a job interview today and massage business abruptly picks up from the high summer doldrums and I have three books to review that each deserves a really thoughtful treatment, and a conversation about the high philosophy of massage that I desperately want to participate in suddenly ignites. If I owe you email, don't give yourself airs and think you're special: I owe everybody email.
Here's the cover of the soon-to-be poetry book, by Robin Weiss