Poems and cider

     Sometimes I write poems. Often they're poems about -- sing along -- cancer. Other times not. I'm working on a new collection in poetry workshop this semester. One of them has to do with apples. Perhaps I'll polish the collection to the point that I feel confident entering it in a contest. 

     One contest I won't be entering is Cider Press Review, whose recent suckage came to my attention via the hilarious Literary Rejections on Display blog, by way of poet Stacey Lynn Brown's Ten Fingers Typing. To pick the tiniest nit, the publisher's abuse of the word abuse is just... abusive.

     Karma dictates that Stacey's big fat ship will come in soon and roll right on past that dinky dinghy CPR. Go, Stacey.