This was the weekend of the annual MFA retreat; this year we headed to Borde du Lac Lodge, which has a dozen cabins and we all had our own beds in our own rooms, to snore and wheeze away in. This year I was witness to more chaos than last, including a quick skinny dip by five of the male MFAs at the edge of the bonfire in what must have been moderately painful waters.
I am still very much so drowning in work, despite my earnestness and well-behaved intentions. I did get work done--a new poem for the chapbook draft I'm plugging away at and I read an entire book of essays in preparation for the interview with Adam Zagajewski I have later this week. But still: there are student essays, Emily Dickinson, comments on manuscript drafts, an incredibly overdue review to write, an abstract to sketch out, and the contents of my truck (for I drove several other MFAs up to the retreat) to sort through on my dining room table. Anyone have need of some high school teaching materials? Or perhaps a sweater I started to knit and cursed and threw into a ball, thinking I'd never find it again?
Some good news upon my return: two poems, "Breaching" and "Axis" now have homes at an online literary journal called The 13th Warrior Review.
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