capping Krakatoa

well, that was dumb of me...

a few hours ago, a poem erupted, PERHAPS THERE ARE YET PANTHERS, which I posted to AuthorsDen.

Then, as I was planning to do an update to my newsletter The William F. DeVault Newsletter (original title, eh?) at Google Groups, I threw in a note stating that this would be my last new poem posted until August 16th...

So, I lay down to take a nap and suddenly words start coming...not a trick, or a bleed, or even gusher, but a full on eruption...I mean legions of snippets and stanzas and sonnets. So, now I have all this cool new stuff and can't post it (that would be cheating).

So, such is life. I feel like I just got through announcing I'd pounded a giant cork into a volcano (hence the name of this entry) when I heard the rumble...damn preconscious. Someone climb down there and tell them to stop that, right now, or I'm coming down and having a few words with the infernal, internal, eternal creative furnace keeper...I mean, I let him out to run often enough. Not my fault others have behaved so jackassishly of late and put him in an intemperate mood.

Anybody got some duct tape and superglue?