1.

In a cluster of dead trees there are many red-headed woodpeckers. If I stand very quietly, they become used to me and resume their percussive tapping. The trees have different notes, timbres, and tones, and each bird taps in its own particular rhythm. I close my eyes and listen.

2.

The Wells Fargo Wagon or what-the-fuck-ever (I so love tmesis) finally arrived in South Dakota with my long-awaited contributors' copies of BLOOM! Wonderful poems contained therein by our very own C. Dale Young and Emily Lloyd. Yay!

3.

S: You sound really happy.

Me: Thank you. I am.

Oh, I would love to hear those birds and trees right now. Thanks for the props on my poem in Blooom. Yours was truly fanfuckingtastic. [grin]

Thank you Emily!

Your poem in BLOOM really is a beautiful poem. I made Jacob read it.

Wow. Thank you again C. Dale!