I am here. I am here.

Juana Molina's song "La Verdad."


I've been thinking about this third book. Its mechanics. The way it ticks. There are high places and there are low places but there are few places in between.

And that's the problem with it at the moment. That at times it takes itself too seriously. That it's much too me. And I'm finding in my edits, that I'm saying "I am here and I am here and I am here" far too much. I suppose that's what happens when you write some moderately confessional long narrative poems.

Strategies for the other books were actually quite easy. In Names, I had a character who wasn't me. So naturally, I could have other characters who also weren't me describe or define the main character. There was distance.

In Furious Lullaby, I had the "you" address. And unlike the common practice in poems that use "you," "you" was not the poet but someone external to the poet. So naturally, it was easier to offer direction/instruction for readers.

But now I'm stuck with lots of these confessional narratives that are lightly veiled in fiction, but are certainly about me. Oh what to do?

Ever get tired of listening to yourself?


The academic quarter is drawing to a close and I'm beat. Juggling the teaching gig with the new parental duties is tough. Never mind that I also have to write as part of my "job." There is never enough time. There never was before I became a dad. I'm feeling mildly squeezed.

The kid's damn cute, though.


Mere's birthday is tomorrow. Happy birthday, love!


Current Spins: See the above Juana Molina track as well as all her albums. Great grading music.

Current Reads: Chang Rae Lee's Native Speaker for a class I'll be teaching.

Oliver de la Paz