Our dream wrestles in the castle of doubt.

Big thx to Scott at Split Lip for talking to me about poetry and my silly efforts. Also, big high-five to David Tomaloff for saying the best thing ever about me: "When I think about T-Gob and his work, I imagine an America remixed by deejay saints in tank tops; I imagine trees growing ice cream that melts under the Midwest summer sun, dripping and forming text on the shells of silverback turtle-puppies, who then carry it off to his editors—and then that, my friends, is how cookies are made."

Christopher Newgent, one of the cool dudes and a stellar writer and a bourbon guy, writes a bourbon column for Hobart, bringing together these three awesome attributes. His newest post is total WOW.

Hellyeah to Vonnegut letters. 

This looks like a really interesting book about atheists/religious people relations. Check this excerpt.

Major woot-woot for my pals Mark Neely and Ashley Ford for their Pushcart nominations from Pank.

Maurice Manning on Conservatism

The poetry world lost a real deal in Jack Gilbert this week.

Horses at Midnight Without a Moon
by Jack Gilbert
Our heart wanders lost in the dark woods. Our dream wrestles in the castle of doubt. But there's music in us. Hope is pushed down but the angel flies up again taking us with her. The summer mornings begin inch by inch while we sleep, and walk with us later as long-legged beauty through the dirty streets. It is no surprise that danger and suffering surround us. What astonishes is the singing. We know the horses are there in the dark meadow because we can smell them, can hear them breathing. Our spirit persists like a man struggling through the frozen valley who suddenly smells flowers and realizes the snow is melting out of sight on top of the mountain, knows that spring has begun. Fire When Ready were one of the best bands no one has ever heard of.

We All Need Reminders

After four years of chattering about it, some close calls, some flip-flopping, I did it,I got my first tattoo during this weekend's trip with my dear Ashley Ford to visit our Akron Family (not that Akron Family). All our Akron people said GOOD LIFE IS THE PLACE. Brian there hooked us up really nice. Ashley got "Anything Beautiful" on her shoulder, that being a nod at our pal Nick Sturm's massiveheart poem "I FEEL YES" (you'll see it soon in Forklift SO GET STOKED NOW). It looks good on her, so goooood! And I got the only first tattoo I could really see stamped on my bod, the only thing that I need on me right now. "We are clouds and terrible things happen in clouds." Dean Young said that. He says lots of beautiful and thumping things. That's from his poem, "Frottage," wowwow poem. This thing means YOU KNOW THIS DEAL WITH IT. This thing means MOVE FORWARD. This thing means WATCH OUT. This thing means I FEEL A RUMBLE YET IM BEAUTIFUL. I woke up this morning and couldn't believe it, this thing exists, I exist, the terrible exist. Let's rumble on, alright?

Matt Hart, pal of DY, got a big kick out of my tattoo, sent it to Dean, very nice.

OH MY DONT MISS THIS