Monday, April 06, 2009


I'm reading tomorrow night, along with poet Megan Volpert, at the Georgia Center for the Book. Be there by 7:15 p.m. when the fun begins. I read there last fall with Thomas Lux and won't repeat a single poem. Or I'll try not. Definitely some new work.


I've been absorbed with finishing the memoir. In the last week or so, I've added approximately 10,000 words to the book. The end is near, not exactly mirage-like. But the middle is. What to say about those dull, largely forgettable late teen age years? Dunno. Must figure all that out. Later, rewrite everything.


I have 6 weeks.


I want it to matter.


See you tomorrow night?


Caro said...

Quiet 11 automm light was broked by yr poem. Niagara of beatytragedy as lady di. Tragedy is so democratic. U r so talented. Do. Not know what i envy the most. Things r heimlich or unheimlich. U will like that freud word.thesis . Nice sunday.

Anonymous said...

Black holes and their dark gulping
remind me of the swallowing
of two kinds of mouths:
the butterfly-helio womb and
mouth moving time.

Astral, physical,
it's all the same
rejoicing and digesting.

Don't forget the universe
is waiting for your slide
across the milky way.

We are waiting
for your voice
to swallow up dark places
and leave us just a star.

Anonymous said...

It will matter. It already does.

Linda S. Socha said...

I find I am quite taken with your blog

lia said... ur poem One More Theory About Happiness over at poets and writers and it is just brilliant. "That it is better to have no arms than four legs" sort of hits me in the eye.