I've been gathering snapshots for a full report on last weekend's Charleston trip, but that will wait until Monday. My Thursday and Friday have been spent in a gloriously unkempt state: hair greasy, emails ignored, and a diet of gin and lentils. My mid-back aches. My bed has been hit with a blizzard of paper.
I have been poeming. Revising, shuffling pages, starting to think about the conversations poems can have with each other, the fine line between repeating motifs and poaching from oneself. (A book is big enough for two pirate poems, right? Right?) Spending a half-hour moving stanzas into the third person, then moving them back again. Pulling familiar poetry collections off the shelf to read in that ravenous way that usually happens at art colonies--in part for entertainment, in part for inspiration, in part to recharge my sense of lineage. Last night, it was What Is This Thing Called Love; now, Tell Me.
"FridayReads" is a collaborative event on Twitter marked by the hashtag #FridayReads and coordinated by Bethanne Patrick (a Virginia writer who uses the handle @TheBookMaven). The concept is simple, affirming, and addictive: every Friday, report what you're reading. The first time I ever ventured onto Twitter with my spankin' new handle, I found Don't Kill the Birthday Girl listed--a Random House bookseller had a galley in hand--and that just blew my mind. My memoir! Spotted in the wild!
This post is a love note to the thrill of seeing a finished book navigate the world...and then the deeper thrill of turning to the next book. My #FridayRead? Kim Addonizio. And Sandra Beasley.