At long last, it is Friday. I am not sure why this week has seemed so incredibly long. Maybe because I have things I want to do, but can't because of work, shopping chores, shoveling and the like, all of which draw me away mentally and physically from the many ideas I have playing in an endless loop in the back of my head. I am afraid I will forget some of these brainstorms before I have time to write them all down, so have snippets of paper all over my desk with ideas scribbled on them. Just a word or two is all it takes to catch the idea and hold it until there is time for something longer.
Last night's poetry reading was a delight. Despite the bitter cold, the need to drive 2 and a half hours round trip to listen to an hour's reading; it was well worth the effort. Not only did Erika Meitner read well but her poetry was accessible at the reading. I wasn't left wondering what the hell she was talking about as there weren't obscure references to long dead white men in anything that she read, nor obtuse referrals to Greek and/or Roman mythology. I liked that. I came home with my head reeling with the sweet sounds of words playing against one another in long rhythmic waves that rocked me on the way home and spurred me to jot down some lines of my own once back in the house and in reach of a pen and paper.
As always, I purchased a book last night and had it signed. So, now I can curl up in bed, under the fluffy down comforter, with pen and paper close at hand and read again the poems we heard last night. I am curious to figure out the arc of this book, which is divided into two parts. On first glance at the titles, there is no really obvious arc, but it is there, I am sure. Wishing you all warm thoughts on this cold night.
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