Falling behind

I went away for a short writing retreat to work on the book and now I'm five poems behind.

arg

I feel like that tube of toothpaste, where all the tube part has been rolled up, and you have to extert the kind of pressure that turns carbon deep in the body of the earth into diamonds to get any paste out of the damn thing anymore.

There's going to be some serious squeezing going on around here in the next little while.