Talking Heads

I'll say right off the top, I did not accompany the drinking contingent to Smit's last night so if anything significant happened after the meeting, I was not part of it. I'll start with legitimate announcements and proceed to the gossip.

Because of the five-week month, there is only one meeting before the brunch on April 14. Bring food. Suggestions for the food impaired: Dunkin Donuts, fresh fruit, juice. I will bring a large skillet to brown sausage - someone else should bring some, too, please. There is a small oven here to keep egg dishes, casseroles, quiche warm. VPL will supply coffee, plates, etc. Steve Schreiber and two friends are joining us with some music. (We can dance.)

I passed out PD flyers. Tim took some to distribute at open mics. I have more if anyone wants them. Tom and Dennis and Tim and I went to the Night Sky Cafe this week to hear Don Levy and Mary Panza and announced the brunch there. There seemed to be some interest. Thom Francis assured me he was linking our blog to the Albany Poets site (which is a good site to visit if you haven't already.) Bring as many poems on the 14th as you want. Reading time will depend on how many people we have. If it is just us we will drone on to each other until we are dazed and stupified.

Some of us signed up to read at the Wordfest at the Lark Tavern on April 20. It is an annual Albany event and if anyone else wants to go, we can carpool. It is a Big Deal; you should sign up now at albanypoets.com.

Okay, on to our anthology - it was unanimous that we should use the money we have to produce a new edition rather than reprint the old. It will, obviously, not be ready for the poetry day. You may all start emailing me poems - send five or six, not all of which will live to be in print. Send only your very best. I am raising the bar and will be ruthless in my editing. I spoke with Tom this morning about the title. If you have brilliant suggestions, you may submit those, too, or we may just go with more Poetry Don't Pump Gas.

BTW, the blog now has a sitemeter which counts the number of "hits" we get (people who visit the blog), so visit often and run that meter up!

Joyce and Dennis both brought the Poetry publication of translations. Joyce has more copies if anyone didn't get and wants one.

Mimi has brochures for Pyramid Lake women's writers week.

Last night's poems:
Paul scored another hit - with a childhood remembrance of eluding the "cops".
Tim is attracted to Italian men; Tim's poems get better and better.
Mimi presented a numbered stanza poem on Hillside Themes, beginning and ending with a Sound of Music reference.
Ally was at the Ocean in Winter, burying her feet in the warm sand and making me jealous.
Mexico Mike was alone at the airport, with his trademark twist at the end.
The Rock Lady Joyce had a second installment about waiting for spring to work on her wall, which initiated an argument about the spelling of arugula - one "r" is correct according to Merriam online.
Edie was looking through a super-microscope, hearing the trees scream at being made into paper. Sorry, I thought it was squashed bugs screaming, which is another idea altogether.
Dennis made us laugh with an irreverent Tale of Urgent Love, along with another small packet of read-later poems.
Jamey Stevenson was back with a poem that inspired a lot of conversation. It was a work in progress and, hopefully, we gave him constructive criticism. The bones of the poem were strong, particularly the first verse, which I really liked a lot.
The "talking heads were trampolining on the spongy bed of my brain with their tiny Addidas". I may bring this again because I do have a question I didn't ask.
The late Mr. O'Brien quickly read us a Glebe Homie poem which we will talk about next time.

It was good to have Jamey back and good to see Ally taking a short break from her oxygen. Catherine came with a boyfriend, but no poem. Missing: Art did not have his wife to help him get ready, there was silence from Ryu and Alan, Tom was doing his Hana thing and we watched for Ron outside the window to no avail.

I know this is a long one - I just get chattier and chattier.
Lily Alys