These past two days when I've approached my front porch, there's a package or two poking from my mailbox. This is something close to bliss - books! Today there are three: The Dream of the Marsh Wren, a recommendation by ekh; House of Light, aah Mary Oliver; and A Dome Of Many Colored Glass, an odd-sized trade book with poems cut across pages; already I'm upset. It's these little things. But I had a hard time finding this sample of Imagism by Amy Lowell (Amyism as her detractors said) and the publisher claims to print rare & out of print books.
The day before, two books both fitting my ekphrasic curiosity: Serious Pink by Sharon Dolin and The Poetry of Solitude, an anthology of poems using Edward Hopper paintings for stimulus.
What I miss about the low residency model is the ability to talk with someone. No one in my neighborhood finds the same kind of excitement from her mailbox.