Since we started RHP in 2004, eclipsing Facebook's debut that same year, we've periodically offered issues of very short poems. Even shorter than our usual short. We usually have the same length limit as in this issue, poems with no more than 30 words. These issues are always among my favorites. We did a call for submissions for this current issue of very short poems and the Submishmash newsletter mentioned it. We got sub bombed, y'all! Let's create a new word: subbombed!  I mean, tons of submissions. And thank goodness for Laura M Kaminski, who not only works with the whole editorial team reading and voting on subs but manages the Submittable queue. Had it not been for Laura, I would have taken one look at all those subs coming in and just curled up in a fetal position and cried. (Turns out I did anyway because I do that pretty regularly.)

We didn't want the issue to exceed 25 poems. But we couldn't stand having to reject so much excellent work. So, we've accepted about 50 poems and are going to run this issue in 2 parts. Watch for part 2 in about two weeks.

Thanks to the editorial team and for all who submitted, whether their work was accepted or not.

• In the absence of anything coherent, I offer the following things I've been thinking about.
   

• Mathematicians have calculated that by 2020, 78% of Americans will have been fired by the White House.
   

• The Blues are disappearing against the background of blues. If everything is the Blues, nothing is. Rallying cry: Don’t let our blues take out our Blues.
   

• Doctors recommend that people with concussions rest their brains. They should stay home from school and/or work for periods best measured in weeks and not days. No reading. No television. (Some mischievous doctors add: No church.) Sit in a quiet room and take crayons to coloring books. Get lots and lots of coloring books. Get adult coloring books but be prepared that you may be disappointed by adult coloring books, because you were thinking they might be, you know, “adult.” Treat yourself to a big box of crayons. Go 64. If the waiter brings you a box of 8 crayons send them back to the kitchen. Smell the crayons. You know the smell. That smell will help your brain heal.
   

• We are living these days. Our days need background checks. Universal ones. Should we raise the age of buying our days from 18 to 21? Our days must not include the mentally ill. On appointed dates and at specific times, we are walking out of our days. Our days are semi-automatic. They can be modified to be fully automatic. 

Enjoy the issue!

Dale