I’ve been lucky – in the latest slug of November-y, drizzling cold rainy days, which can suck the life out of you and make you wonder why you moved the Northwest, I got to see a friend (Kelli Russell Agodon) give one of her best readings ever at the cozy Ravenna Third Place Books venue, and then yesterday got to have a lovely lunch of crepes (mine: toffee-caramel-apple) and coffee with another friend and very talented poet, Annette. I mean, if you have to fight off the gloom of winter, that’s the way to do it.
Now I’ve started reading, appropriately enough for a time of year when it’s dark at 4 PM (if you’re lucky enough to have some sun to start with) Lucille Clifton’s Book of Light. I’ve read through Clifton’s collected/selected books before, but this book really showcases the strength of Clifton’s compact, simple but powerful and direct vocabulary and phrasing. I’m loving the poems about Leda, Cain, and Superman.
Two rejections today with long nice notes, but still – feeling a bit bruised. Been writing some new poems – maybe for the second book – in a new vein, something a little different. Even a prose poem, what’s that line from “Why I am not a Painter” “It is even in prose, now I am a real poet!”