Crammed In

We poets don't get any respect around here, as we were displaced from the community room last night in favor of the Riverway Storytelling Festival. When questionned in advance, the diehard poets insisted they did not want to cancel our meeting so we crammed ourselves into the VPL director's office for our session. Fortunately only eleven of us showed up, as that was plenty crowded, even with Edie overflowing into my office. Mike Burke thoughtfully brought two sets of his poetry day pictures so we could each have a photo of ourselves to keep and a set for the "archives". Someone (it was NOT me!) got the two sets a little mixed up, so I will straighten them out for next time.

Tim mentioned that Dan Wilcox had his own report on the brunch posted on his blog. Look it up. By the way, Mark's blog is looking great so visit there, too - there is a link on our site - and Mark read a wonderful poem last night.

Art Willis is back and made an intriguing comment about Turner sneaking into galleries to repaint his masterpieces after they had been sold and were hanging. I intend to look up a bio of Turner now. The discussion began when I asked Paul for permission to post one of his poems (he had another winner about his "dear love') and he refused me, saying his copyright would be comprised, as well as his freedom to revise the poem at a future time. That led to Art's remarks about re-painting, etc. Rarely satisfied, I have been revising my old poems for forty years whenever the spirit moves me, and I guess I am not as concerned about the legalities of it as I could be.

Dennis and Art and I all wrote about our mothers and fathers. I really liked both of theirs, mine not as much. Art's was a particularly strong portrayal of the man his father was, with a haunting question left unanswered. Good stuff. Mike gave us something to argue about with his use of a word I can't put on the website (it begins with p). It was again a poem with a kicker at the end, and some felt that the repetition of the p word detracted from the force of the kick. If that makes any sense.

Alan had the best title of the night with When Mayberry Swallowed Pottersville and I was very fond of Tim's opening three lines about leaving the cinema. Mimi was just about word perfect with The River Stout (wide oak boards and bards, sweet nutmeg embrace) and Ally painted pictures with the taste and sight of brilliant red cherry preserves (orgasmic). Edie made a point about roadside trash "flowers". BTW, Timmy was a little confused tonight. We had to help him out.

We kind of popped out of Gail's office like corn in the microwave and I skipped Grey's Anatomy in favor of a cheeseburger at Smitty's with the guys. Additional conversation there included Dennis' report on the Lark Tavern open mike and my tale of chasing my empty Cruiser as it motored out of the driveway without me.