...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?
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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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