I just returned from South America, journeys to Buenos Aires, Parana, Santiago, Valparaiso, Las Cruces, Zapallar. How to speak of journeys in mere prose? They lift you up and throw you flat on the ground, wide-eyed, astonished, perhaps even bemused by the banal stood up against the terrifying, the awesome canyon and the need to get a bit of bread or a wash.

My new manuscript in Spanish, Sol Camuflado, is in good hands in Chile, read and encouraged by Raul Zurita and other poets; it has begun its journey towards eventual publication in that country. Once I have firm news I will let you know here and everywhere.

Meanwhile, the Splintered Face: Tsunami Poems is occupying the attentions of the printers. Soon I will have the book in hand. These are indeed heady times for a poet.
but the domestic, full of its small joys and sadnesses, keeps me walking the line.

From Vancouver at Thanksgiving I send you my love.