One summer. 34 pages of poems. Most of them worth keeping. The ending of one project. Some scrambling. A revelation about a new project. Then realizing that maybe the new project should be a funny one, not quite so serious. All of a sudden: prose poems! I can write those. Then back to school. Ready to send poems out. Ready to stop picking on finished manuscript. Totally engulfed in editing The Monkey and the Wrench: Essays into Contemporary Poetics. Realizing that MLA format has really changed since I last needed to use it with seriousness.
Oh, and cleaning out my attic (literally and figuratively).
That's it in a nutshell.