I don't know what to say about poetry tonight. Not really reading any poems this week. Reading a wonderful novel by Elizabeth Strout, who went to my college, Bates in Lewiston, ME. Not too many of us writers from Bates, so we gotta read each other.
Anyhoo, revising some poems, sending them out. If anything comes of it, I'll let you know. Looking for new poems to make me crazy. Maybe it's time to hit ole' Stevens again.
I been busy: working, tryin' to socialize. Mostly reading on the trains. At least I'm not writing about my socks or something.
2 comments:
We all need to hit Stevens again and again like a tackle dummy until there's no light left to see.
Dearest Slick,
Sockblogging, I think it's been done. I have seen Slicker's said socks (know them inside and out?) and they are not much to blog home about. Just keep trying to socialize. Just...try....it's so...hard to try. In the Augustinthian blaze. xo B
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