Rain, go away. Actually, kind of nice to hear the pour across the roof. Still, annoyed, just a bit, with the up-down weather.
Three poems accepted today by The Southern Review, which was exciting. 18 poems now from One More accepted, which is awfully close to that magic number of 20: it's around that number where manuscripts seem to reach a kind of critical mass where they'll begin to get play/traction with presses. We'll see.
Listening to music and rain revising: I fixed one poem that had bothered me. Sometimes it's a matter of losing one line, in this case the last. Amazing how a few words can be like the turn of a lock.