So funny how poems happen in the brain, like little electrical misfirings (but productive ones). Today I was standing in line at the circ desk of the main library, with a pile of poetry books in my arms (I'd gone up to the tenth floor -- where the poetry lives -- with one call number on a piece of paper, but of COURSE I kept plucking books from shelves like ripe fruit that had to be picked RIGHT NOW -- like I need to bring more books into this house, sheesh). I was gazing aimlessly at a book truck stacked high with returned books behind the desk, and my eye landed on one that had the word "DECISION" prominently in the title on the spine. Only, with my middle-aged vision, I thought it said "INCISION" and I thought, yeah! that's a word I should use in a poem someday, with its connotations of precision and of deliberate injury with healing intent. Then I remembered the poem I revised yesterday, the last stanza of which has the image of carving a name into a gravestone, and all of a sudden I realized that the name needed to be incised, not carved. And just coming up with that one little word made me irrationally happy, delighted, buoyant -- so I didn't mind when my stop by the post office to check my P.O. Box yielded only an advertising flyer and a rejection slip.
(I'm actually glad to get the rejection slip, as I've got a LOT of poems out right now, many of which have been out for months and months -- the ones that came back today went out in March, and at least one of them -- I'll have to check -- has been considerably revised since then. So now I can send 'em back out. I swear, it's like I on-purpose picked the places that would be slowest to respond this time around!)
P.S. How on earth did it get to be August already?? Man.
P.S.2. Whoever thought up the horribly annoying new Target commercial -- the one that starts off "I like backpacks and I cannot lie" -- needs to be FIRED. That commercial bugs the crap out of me.
P.S.3. Interlibrary loan rocks my little bitty world. Seriously. If it's in WorldCat, which compiles the holdings of hundreds of libraries and contains over 33 million records, I can probably get it delivered to me within a few days just by clicking on a couple of clicky things. I've gotten my hands on all kinds of obscure little chapbooks and random small-press stuff. It is, as they say, a beautiful thing.