When you make a book, there are leftovers. You look at the leftovers and try to imagine what body they need to walk upright. You write more poems. These aren't quite poems yet. Just attempts. You make many many many attempts. Abandon drafts. Steal titles from that which isn't working. Repurpose lines. Ask questions. Respond to prompts, discard results. Make conjectures. What happens when I. What if I don't. What will change here. Experiments. Folks might ask for more poems to publish, if such poems exist. You don't want to disappoint. You polish the strange new things, worry their legs aren't nearly as strong as the legs on the poems in the book you're still reading from in public at every chance. You send the strange new things out to be seen and hope they're as good as the once-new things. You panic frequently that you won't keep going, but you keep going.
I am lucky for stamina, and for deep pockets. There were lots of orphan poems when I made Pelican and the more I look at them, the more they feel like walking into an unfurnished room. Anything could live in them. They could belong to any kind of house. I get to make the house. Fill the rooms with whatever furniture I want.
During the wild flurry of book birth and tour travel, these little poems from newer projects have been sneaking out in the world. Recently:
+ A strange little creature called "Lemniscate" (yes, after the math term) has a home in the newest issue of Dreginald.
+ Drunk in a Midnight Choir was kind enough to feature three more of my poems--"Everything to Everyone," "I'D LET THE GEEK GET THE GIRL," and "how it started." "GEEK" is the first piece to be published from the very strange chapbook I've been working on about the Scream movie franchise, and I'm really excited for more of those monsters to see the light of day.
+ Extract(s) has given three poems from Pelican some more light. Head over to read (or reread) "Caught in Bruce's Mouth," "Sailor's Knot," and "Rosary for the Blood Moon."
+ Five Quarterly gave a home to one of many strange poems I've written after binge-watching Gilmore Girls, this one called "A Thousand Yellow Daisies," and about highway drives and refusing to be married.
+ Noble/Gas Quarterly provided a wildly generous amount of space to five of my poems in their latest issue. Click here to read "predation," "Everything is Wrong," "I Don't Want to Talk About Anything," "Work," and "sure as you live."
+ "Conditional," the Pelican poem that scares me the most to read aloud, will appear in the next installment of the Best Indie Lit New England anthology. Read it at Radius, its first home, with loving introduction by Stevie Edwards.
And if you have new birds of your own, consider sending them to me and Brent over at Wyvern Lit, preferably in flock form.