Friday, February 29, 2008



Sunday, February 17, 2008

About the poetry

I have a lot to learn.

I have new links to add to my Bloglines now.

As to the AWP, just being there and being able to be there, being a good enough writer to be there, and for one's hard work to be recognized by peers, should count for a lot.

Off to the many links I have found.

Monday, February 11, 2008

Next up or marking ambition

How to Live in the Heartland by Twyla Hansen (damn, she did a 9 Mile Prairie poem, that is what I had planned on writing about one day, not that I won't, but still ;-)
School of the Arts by Mark Doty

The Grass is Singing by Doris Lessing
The Jane Austen Book Club

Last two for book club. Question, are all book clubs becoming clubs that read books about book groups? I have a feeling tis so.

I was going to get another book of poetry, by Asian poets, but I knew this bunch would be enough for a while. That one is next up, next up! Given my absolutely microscopically slow reading pace lately, that might be a while.

Have a good one!

Thursday, February 07, 2008

Facts of the day

If I lived in Edinburgh, I would have a much more active poetry life. I would go to all the Grog events!! Mostly I am saying, "Damn!"

In other news, I have been busy. I haven't been writing, but I have been busy. I would suggest a correlation, but that would be presumptuous.

I read a poem this morning. It has been resonating all day. Interesting way to start the day, with those resonations. It changes your day. It added a little kindness where there may have been a frustration.

That was good. Have a great evening.

Sunday, February 03, 2008

Unobserved leaps

I find almost everything written by Verlyn Klinkenborg enlightening. Like today's article in the NYTimes here.

I love the lilt of timbre of his writing. Especially this bit:

I have grown used to the idea that nearly everything around me in nature happens unobserved and unrecorded. A snowy winter sometimes retains a transcript, but even those are rare.

I think this is partly what art touches upon, the unobserved that becomes observed by art. Poetry takes a moment, and makes it observable. It shines the light on the hidden, on the unknown.

I am continuing to be fascinated by the in between. The jump between the moment and the word. The place that isn't anything, but is the fuel for the thing. The moment the mark is made, those wings that are the transcript. That place that is indeed ephemeral. It ceases almost immediately, but the transcript remains. Inspiration is like this. The fuel of the word. But invisible.

I love this mystery, the unknown component to the known. This juxtaposition of light and dark, learning and leaning forward to look to the newly known.

Have a great day.