I recently received the latest chapbook from Kate Greenstreet "this is why I hurt you". The little book is bound tenuously with black thread and the quality of the paper and typeface is stunning. Equally stunning are the poems. It's like sitting by yourself reading the paper or just people watching and suddenly someone touches your face with a soft blanket. You turn to look and they have vanished. And that happens every page. Max sent the package with a couple other books, two signed for my small but growing collection of women poets, the whole thing was a labor of energy and time. I was so touched by the whole experience. Everything felt fragile and pristine. I put everything on the shelf in protective sleeves and I'll read more when I get some cotton gloves and a softer heart. Thank you Kate.

Included was a handwritten erratum, there was a missing "e" in the initial editions of the limited printings. I had seen the space where the e was supposed to be and I knew what it was but I thought, that's life. A missing e is a very small thing, it reminds us how imperfect we are. It was a perfect moment of recognition, a tiny moment of quiet. The missing thing fit in beautifully by its absence.