Irons in the fire, or burners on the stove

or pots on the burner, or cooks in the kitchen…

I'm feeling much better than when I made my (ahem) highly dramatic post on Sunday. I'm still haunted by images in the book, but I'm able to revisit them, carefully.

Now, I'm reading poems by Yehuda Amichai, and they are leading me on a richly textured journey.

Next, I'm ready to get to some of my own work. I've spent so much focus on revising the poems in my manuscript again that I haven't turned to anything newer. And I have quite a few things going, including a whole series based on that fairy tale that I can't find and can't remember and some place poems I wrote in Tieton and a poem about Lipomas and many, many things to revise. Tonight, I think it's time to give those poems a turn.

And hey—I could even think about sending out some work. (Do editors really have the time and inclination to read submissions this time of year?)

Finally, I'm trying to cook an artichoke. With the choke and the sauce and the rice, that's three burners.