Things have been going well in the small press. Received several acceptances from various publications recently, and I'm gearing up for an online-only campaign soon, probably in early July. Of note is a response from The Blind Man's Rainbow I received. Basically, I hadn't heard from them since sending in August of 2004, ten months ago, so I recently sent the ominous NIR (I really don't like sending one of these). NIR is Notice of Impending Rescinsion, which gives the publisher two weeks to let me know if they're still in business, if I'm rejected, accepted, or even if to say they're still not sure. However, I was pleased to get a response (most publications don't even respond to my notice) from Melody Sherosky, stating that two poems had been accepted for their July 2005 issue over 6 months ago, and that they'd sent a response. I suppose I place the blame on my mailman. I keep pretty devout tracking records of everything I send out, so as not to lose anything. So, I'm pleased and The Blind Man's Rainbow is pleased, and for all I know, my mailman is pleased to have used my earlier response as toilet paper or whatnot.
Also, I've joined quite a few online poetry groups, and started a small one of my own, though the members are pretty much people I grew up with or have known for awhile. Also, humorously, I'm the only poet in my poetry group. Fuck it, though. With all the reading poetry, writing poetry, revising poetry, submitting poetry, researching poetry markets and presses, studying up on people in poetry... do I really need to discuss it with my close friends? Nope. I like that my poetry group is like brief, accessible vacation from the rest of the poetic internet.