Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
About Me
- Paul
- Paul Guest is the author of four volumes of poetry and a memoir. His debut, The Resurrection of the Body and the Ruin of the World, was awarded the 2002 New Issues Poetry Prize. His second collection, Notes for My Body Double, was awarded the 2006 Prairie Schooner Book Prize. His third collection, My Index of Slightly Horrifying Knowledge, was published by Ecco Press/HarperCollins in 2008. His fourth collection, Because Everything Is Terrible, was published by Diode Editions. His poems have appeared in Harper's, The Paris Review, Poetry, Tin House, The Kenyon Review, and elsewhere. His memoir, One More Theory About Happiness, was published by Ecco in May 2010 and selected for the Barnes & Noble Discover Great New Writers Program. The recipient of a 2011 Guggenheim Fellowship and a 2007 Whiting Writers' Award, Guest lives in Charlottesville, Virginia.
21 comments:
No. Better than usual, but good? No.
Of course not! But I have been good at being bad...
You know that poem about the little girl who had that little curl right in the middle of her forehead?
Um, well. When I was good, I was very very good. But mostly, I was horrid. (smile)
You guys are making me proud. Especially you, Laurel.
;)
Nooooo. But, it was only half my fault.
Good point, Ali...
A few people told me I was good.
;)
Heh.
Charles, don't you have a BF????
Santa Paul,
I've done bad things. And I've done good things.
Bring me Zen.
Soory, Paul, I'm just too old to believe in you.
I've been ethical and odd.
Dean tells me I've been naughty and nice.
This thread teeters on the precipice. Somebody help push it over!
If you're unethical, odd, and old, I'll take you on.
Bring me some Zin!
I've been teetering on the precipice.
Mostly good, with a little bad thrown in to keep things interesting.
ttMostly good, with a little bad thrown in to keep things interesting.
I believe this thread is still teetering. Let me push it over the precipice. Please? I've already admitted to being a bad, bad girl.
So, without further ado:
Santa, did you stuff that stocking or are you just happy to see me?
Merry Xmas, Santa Paul and to all of the rest of you poet knuckleheads.
What stocking, Laurel?
;)
Ho, ho, OH!
(smile)
(Btw, the poem you posted above is loverly. And, you ought to write a poem about alien Ashbery materializing in your bedroom and demanding you to identify common objects. Bed? What is a bed, really?)
I'd best behave, lest that lump of coal materialize after all, no?;)
Post a Comment