Where do we go now, ay, ay, ay...

Honesty, Sweet Child, I don't know. I seem to have hit one of those dead ends in my reading which always closely correspond to dead ends in writing. Though I've stocked up on biographies of other poets (Eliot, Auden, another one on Frost--shit, I'm crazy), I can't just move on, though I think I've had enough Frost for a while. And B. is gone, working far away in Portland, OR for the next 9 days. I'm lonesome, I miss her, I'm buying books to fill my heart. It's not working, I don't want to read them, I'm over-filling my already full apartment, which I share with B., as well as a fellow collector of pop and high culture artifacts, W. We have too much stuff, and are adding to it every day (though B., you are the least guilty, and W. and I know it (though you did just move in all your stuff and furniture, etc. Hmmmm.)). Anyway, I digress...but I've been digressing from the outset here. Anyhow, anyone with a good suggestion of something post-Frost to read is encouraged to write in. Hope all's well for all.