You get tired trying to undo the way the planet moves beneath you. Desynchronosis. Time out of time.
This post-AWP post is half an update, half space-fill, half excuse. Three places in one body: Tel Aviv, New York, and Los Angeles. You can feel them each by degrees. Oceansides, one after another after another, like waves, but made of millions and millions of people, with twenty four hours for all of them to share.
I left AWP wanting more, which is probably the way it should end. I got to meet some great people, hear a lot of interesting ideas about books, see this poetry in the heat. Sometimes, it seemed like it was amazing. But then it was time to go, and suddenly I realized that anything I didn't get to do would have to wait another year. But feeling like there was more to do > feeling like it was a waste of time.
They give you a bag when you get there: you have to fill it.