We're reading on Friday to celebrate the Lawrence issue of Black Spring. At the Raven Book Store on 7th St. That's Lawrence, Kansas.

Speaking of the Lawerence poetic community, I suddenly realized today that I doubt if Ken Irby has ever read a poem I've written. At most, he's seen what I published in this issue of Black Spring. A combination of me not being the person to thrust my work at other people, and Ken not being the kind of person who asks to see what one has written. (If I've thrust my work at you on email in the last year that is uncharacteristic behavior on my part. I always feel weird about it. What is the ettiqutte here? I never know whether I know anybody well enough, even my best internet buddies.) I've never published in First Intensity either. Never submitted there. Never given a reading in Lawrence. Maybe because I'm a zombie when I'm here? Maybe that we don't do much as a "community" unless someone gets off their ass to do something. Lately it's been me bringing people like Ron Silliman and Jordan Davis in. Earlier it was Judy Roitman and others bringing in the likes of Bromige and Tills. Now it's McCrary organizing this event.