Five, Yes, Five.

I've had five people tell me they cried while reading the poetry in The Bones of Saints Under Glass.

Two said they cried while reading "The Other One Stopped." Two cried while reading "Swimming in Beauty and Light." And one cried while reading "Robots and Rivers."

Do you have any idea how good that feels? What that means to a poet?

I want to thank all five of them, truly, from the bottom of my thanking apparatus. I also want to thank everyone else who has bought a copy of Bones.

Thank you.
Thank you.
Thank you.
Thank you.
Thank you.