Feeling a bit down, probably the letdown after all the excitement of one reunion and two weddings. Either that or the jetlag.
It's funny, I've given my manuscript to a few people of late, none of them poets. I feel like I have to wrap it in a plain brown wrapper -- or at least enclose a warning that it is not fact checkable -- it's poetry. But none of these people are poets and I don't know what they expect. Some of them know things about my life they will read into the poems. It's a strange vulnerable feeling.
On the other hand, I've found that it's way more important to me than it is to others. Poetry doesn't make a very loud thud when it is dropped in the real world. You can scarcely hear it.
Well, this is a throwaway post, but I thought I should check in now that I'm back from Back East.
Not much Halloween happening at my house. Young people can get free candy in far easier ways than struggling up my very steep hill.
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
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