Got back today from Paris, after a lovely last weekend and a harrowing day of travel. B. lost her luggage and everything on the plane was sluggish and crappy. But we didn't crash, and that's good news to me.
Noteworthy in the last couple of days was the Rodin museum, home of my favorite objects in the world (I had been there years before as well). Both B. and I were vibrating with emotion the whole time we were there.
And at Shakespeare and Co, I picked up every book by Simon Armitage I could find. I'm a little obsessed with him now, and I'm looking back into Ted Hughes as well. Armitage is clear, self-depricating, and loves ending each poem with a clincher (something that seems slightly suspect to me, but I love 'em every time). And I'm surprised I haven't really delved into hughes before. He's got some of that forcefulness I love so much in Merwin, but he's always dark.
Poetry things go well--Pleiades took two more poems and a review of the new Yale book, Crush by Richard Siken, which I recommend highly; it's one of the more exciting first books I've read in a while.