The “Two Submissions / One Poem Per Rejection” scheme continues apace—still behind, but manageably so.

Following a rejection from Copper Nickel, I submitted to JUKED and Fifth Wednesday, and finished a piece called “Veninum Lupinum.” I was then rejected by Ninth Letter, and just this morning drafted “The Aristarchus of Trepidation,” one of those things that arises entirely out of the act of sitting down to write. I started with a set of four end-lines I’d jotted down maybe a year ago and zero expectations, and what came out of it was something I’d have never consciously set out to create. I feel good about that, like I’ve just made my first macaroni art since first grade.

I still have to do two submissions for the Ninth Letter rejection... and just a couple of hours ago I found out I didn’t win The Normal Prize, so now I’m four submissions and one poem in the hole. But submissions are merely an act of work, and poems are free for the plucking. I think it’s perhaps like seeing ants on the sidewalk: once you spot the first one and your depth of field shifts, suddenly you see them crawling everywhere.

I have to admit, I’m having fun with this approach.