The Pie Tin's literary journal held reading night this evening. Anyone interested in giving feedback was invited—about 20 attended. We read through nearly 200 submissions in 2 1/2 hours and then debated the "maybes" for another hour and a half. For obvious ethical reasons I couldn't read or vote on my own submissions. But by the end of the evening I had three poems in the "definite yes" pile, and two in the editor's pile for further consideration. I submitted a piece of prose, but it was voted out probably because of disturbing content.
I don't know how many will make it into the journal once the editors realize the number of pieces that cleared jury, but I'm feeling positively about being a poet again. My muses shift and inspiration changes as I shift from one Pre-Socratic in Ancient Greek philosophy to another. But clear, vivid work is falling through the sieve.
On the way out to the parking lot once the festivities had dispersed, next semester's editor-in-chief pegged me for the Spring journal's poetry editor.
Now if I could just break onto the national journal scene.