Just finished a batch of 200+ poems and am sorting through them with the help of my editor/first reader/manager/lady in order to see if there’s a book in there.
My process is simply to fill up a journal (those sleek/cliche Moleskines) and leave that journal alone for at least a year. When I come back to it, Older Jose judges the misadventures of Younger Jose to no end. Well, to some end. Hopefully – poems!
What is significant about this recent batch is that I feel there is something special in them. I can tell because of the very scientific proof of how I can’t stop smiling over some of them. I believe I said recently that working on poems for hours on end feels kinda like plotting a world domination campaign.
Inner-world domination campaign, for sure.
Why do I share all this?
Because I can’t stop smiling.
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