Molten

Nickel City afternoon, cold and alluring. I went to check out the iron pour at Buff State, where radiators and other items were melted down and then poured into molds created by artists at the college and from other places, too. The liquid fire was so beautiful, and the rough smell is still in my hair.

Then I went to Rust Belt Books to drop off some canning jars I wasn't using to Lea Prentiss. Lea--poet/student/worker, was wishing for a breathalyzer on her computer, which seemed to be collecting poetry from her fingertips while she was less than aware. Eh, could be worse. For my effort, I have applesauce and tapenade coming my way at some point.

Home, I put together a tomato pie while listening to the mix CD Kristi Meal made for me (again an exchange, for a Patti Smith live show bootleg). The Musician and I had several hilarious exchanges contemplating whether the CD was called "06" (for the year) or "Ole'." I think it's the latter, but hee anyway.

I have 18-inch tall irises, a few more hours of solitude, a patched ceiling.