I just had the best review I'll probably ever get. No matter what. Because it's the first time anyone has ever said such things about my poetry. The Pedestal just posted a review of Femme au chapeau by Terri Brown-Davidson that makes me want to quit sending out envelopes, stop plugging my book and stay home and write. And work hard. Because she completely connected with what I was hoping I was doing.

It's an experience that will stay with me. It's funny, because my first book had a scathing review -- or I thought it was -- from a poet who's now a good friend. This friend thinks I made great progress between books. It's the sort of critique you believe, coming from someone you used to consider an enemy. (I won't mention the days of pin-sticking-in-doll thing, or the dark curses flung in despair -- kind of like what we watched on Rome.)

When strangers read exactly what you wrote in a poem, how does it make you feel?

Wonderstruck here. Like this magic machine made of words really works, revolves and throws out sparks and beams. Creates a laser line that connects us right through.

Oh yeah. The link to the review.