...concerning Kilauea, a Hawaiian volcano, is almost a poem in itself. I like this: "Fume hangs in the crater, but glimpses of all vents come and go."
It's fuming here, too. I'd love to be in Regina tonight. Some writers I like are reading and at least one of those fine writers made sushi for the event. Sushi. How good was the sushi?
The sushi was mighty fine, so was the wine. The reading--seven poets reading grains of words rolled into poems--went gingerly!
I knew it would be good. I knew it. Next time I'll drive down.
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