IN PRESS!

I just got off the phone with Bryce (who's cell # is currently over $500) and the final acknowledgements have been dusted off the shelf, skimmed from the scraps of pages of "Brownie Points" and typed up into email. (Ha! Can an updated cv be far behind?) I even got the con safos in. And, I almost forgot the most important acknowledgement: myself for a "rare limited edition" of Play published by MANGO Publications in 1999. If you've got it, hang on to it. It will be worth something in some years. Long as the cat doesn't pee on it. Hey! It happens.

Book is in the hands of the printer. As is.

I'm waiting to cry. Okay. here I go. Hot tears. Ugly face. Good tears. Like watching good schmaltz on tv. Or, when that guy from the Greek famine won the Boston marathon in 1940-something (1960-something) (?) (it's a number) in order to buy food for the population. Or, whenever I watch Extreme Makeovers: Home Edition. Some are 6 Kleenex episodes. Got my box downstairs. Got my hands.

Interviewer: How do you know when a poem is finished?

LDC: I cry.
~~~~~~~~~
currently hearing Marc Cohn: "While the lights of the city/ are shining below/ Gonna hold on to you/ Girl, and never let go/ while everyone else is just/ walking around in their sleep/ Baby, let's dig down deep."

"because the fortune said that/ The time is Now"