Dear Jefferson and Albino, Thought it might be time to check in and send along a few poems for your consideration. Just came back from California, toured Jack London’s ranch north of San Francisco. He wrote 50 books by the time he died at the age of 40! Just imagine if he had had a computer, how many he would have written! anyway, thanks for your time and consideration, and I hope all is well, Michael Estabrook I think I'm screwing up this submission, can't figrue out how to send poems to you.

                There's been a boot
                on the side of the road for weeks now,
                standing upright, heel pointed
                in towards the road, probably
                it fills with water
                during the rain and
                there must be sand and road dirt

                     "I've been doing more painting lately," she says, her eyes sparkling like a Gaugin girl poised at the edge of a dark green forest. "But I don't think you would like them," she adds, sipping her coffee. Women, I think to myself, can be such frustrating creatures.