Sunday night: out drinking with poets
Monday night: in my room drinking with poets
Tuesday night: out drinking with poets
Do you sense a trend here? (I may give myself this evening off from that. Or not.)
D.A. Powell gave his reading last night -- all new work, written in the past six months or so. It quite knocked my socks off, or would have had I been wearing socks. Also: titles! Look out for some of them in a couple upcoming issues of Poetry. I am biased (as we are almost always biased for -- or against, sometimes -- our teachers) but it is just terrific stuff.
I've written three poems so far this week: two for class assignments and one for the hell of it. Quite happy with both my assignment poems -- not that they don't need lots of work, but they are workable drafts, I think. The one for the hell of it is about a squirrel I spotted and I wrote it just because I wanted to put the phrase "gnawed nuts" in a poem.
Ah, Provincetown.
P.S. The "shit or get off the po(e)t" odds are currently running approximately 80-20 in favor of the poet. And against said poet's bank account. Just sayin'.
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