This is Jack Kennedy. Rather, a rendering of Jack Kennedy. I found this in Dubuque last week. The owner's of the bar that I found it in, found it under their walls when they were stripping the plaster off the brick. Some guy who fancied himself painter 40 years ago, couldn't pay his tab with cash, so paid it with paint (a quick aside, I'm always willing to pay bar tabs with poems). Now, this portrait of JFK sits in this bar surrounded by tin and neon beer signs. I can't tell you the name of the bar as I forgot. I also can't tell you exactly where it's at as I was never sure where I was, but I did want to share this with you to help us celebrate President's Day and to give you hope in case you have an outstanding bar tab and no actual income.

I would be remiss to not mention that I had a great time at AWP this year. I may have picked all the wrong sessions to sit in on, and could only afford to buy one book (Eric Baus' "Tuned Droves"), but it was good to see friends and peers and remember why I want to be a writer and publisher of poems. Lots of people hate AWP, and though I do think it's rather pretentious, as my old friends become more and more spread out across the nation, it's nice to have a reason to get everyone in the same place...especially when it's my living room.

Thanks FK for all the wonderful stuff, including the Rope-a-dope broadside, and for bringing your awesome girlfriend.

Thanks JB for all the beer and food and beer and cab rides and beer.

Thanks EB for the hug and encouragement and signing my book.

Thanks MD for sitting up with me until 4:30 in the morning just to shoot the breeze.

And thanks to my surprisingly understanding wife who did not freak out once as I irresponsibly gallivanted around the city.