My wife, Jill, will tell you that I keep my successes to myself and downplay them when made public. It’s another vanity, a fantasy about being discovered without appearing to peddle my wares, a refusal to share the small victories of a life. It’s a habit I should lose, however queasy it makes me feel.

My first poetry collection is tentatively accepted for publication, pending some edits and the addition of several illustrations by my brother, John Volck. Those of you in the writing business know how much can go wrong between an editor’s “yes” and the physical reality of a book in the hand, but this is good news worth sharing. Some of the poems are more than ten years old, others quite recent. Most have been tinkered with longer than necessary. It’s time to let them go.

The working title is Flesh Becomes Word. I’ll say more as things progress. In the meantime, do yourself and a small press like Cincinnati’s Dos Madres a favor: buy some poetry. Your life can do with a little more beauty.