Matzoh, matzoh, matzoh, I made you out of clay

Passover creeps closer on its little matzoh feet.

So do the Kootenays, where I'm headed on Sunday. Readings and workshops in New Denver and Silverton; workshops in Kimberley, and maybe I'll get to Jeff Pew's Poetry on the Rocks festival there. Rox and Jeff will be launching their bissett homage anthology. (The Toronto launch is June 1, at Clinton's!)

My novel turns out to be much more complex to complete than I had thought. Gosh, how does anyone keep all that info sorted out with a tiny little human brain? Perhaps the answer will come to me in New Denver, in the little cabin by the lake, with the woodstove burning, the window cracked for ventilation, Tess the dog scratching at my door. And maybe, somewhere in the woods, bears.

This time I think George W. Bush is really going down. I mean, it's gotta happen. It's gotta. I swear.

Over and out.