Awesome comments today over on Ron's blog, which I won't mar with these remarks: If you think of a poetry journal as a unit to shift, you're going to get out of that game right quick. If you think of it as an assertion of what needs to be read right now, loss-leader stizz, then you're going to keep going until you decide to stop reading.

If you read, if you know writers, you're going to make a journal. Period. You might call it a commonplace book, an anthology, a mixtape, whatever. If language is adhering to you like burrs unto velcro, you will want to assemble it and show it around.

You in this case means me.

Received number four in my subscription to Aaron Tieger's excellent and understated mag Carve. Read it in one sitting, or half a sitting actually -- started The Brothers Karamazov the second part of the commute. I love the way Aaron reads, what he reads for. Zero pompous clutter. All the work he prints is alive and how many editors can say that? Laughed a horrific throaty laugh that made them look up and down the platform at Mairead Byrne's "Rose Colored Spectacles" ("Come to think of it, another name for rose colored spectacles is car."). I think this is the first time I've seen poems by Gina Myers and Tony Robinson in print. Yay.