I decided I wouldn’t even attempt to write a poem a day this month, given my health issues. Oh, I’m fine, by the way, and today I’m even back in my regular (read: tight) jeans. Thanks to everyone for the usual messages and tokens of support: DF, the cold cuts were fantastic; Twinings, a girl will never run out of fruit while you’re around; RB, you are an angel for coming by and cooking the kids dinner; and of course my husband, without you nothing would be possible.
Back to National Poetry Month (and now you know I’m feeling better!) Tonight I will be at my first poetry reading of the month, a Quick & Dirty Poets Extravaganza featuring the big Irishman himself, Dan Maguire. If you are in the Mt. Holly area do come along to the Daily Grind at 7 pm. I’ll be reading a couple of newish poems, and I may even bring the color photo of my cystic ovary. How can you miss that?
On Sunday I will be attending a very civilized Afternoon Literary Salon celebrating the Paterson Literary Review and featuring Maria Mazziotti Gillan. As a local contributor I have been invited to read the poem they published in Issue #35, “English Grandmothers.” I’m still not meant to drive far so I’m dragging Keba along to chauffeur, which means not just poetry but bonus couple time.
Next week RB and I are heading to Bryn Mawr on Thursday to see the brilliant Yusef Komunyakaa, which I’m really looking forward to, and the following week I’m hoping to get to the Burlington County Poets Reading, featuring Daniel Abdal-Hayy Moore.
A few days ago I was bemoaning the state of metrical poetry with Major Jackson and, I’m not quite sure how this happened, but he challenged me to write a blank verse epic. So I did, if you can call five pages an epic. As with all my best work, it’s probably completely unpublishable, but he liked it. And guess what?
Last night I really did dream in Iambic Pentameter.