Thursday, April 18, 2013

Things you can't do with a husband

I read at the launch of the Spring Semester literary journal.
I read well.
My submission of one Vegan Princess poem came back from the editor. It was affixed to three pages of notes including very clean, fair revisions from a particular faculty member whom I'd say is one of three leading poets from the Jell-O State.
My husband called this poem "pornography".
I hate to say it, but this baby's ready to submit nationally. And oh, I am going to submit. Someone's going to eat her up.
I am one tickled rutabaga.

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