I just arrived home from my week at the 3rd Annual Palm Beach Poetry Festival. I had an amazing time-- even more so than last year's experience (which is saying a lot!). I haven't unpacked yet..... about to eat... definitely update coming later. However, I will say this: thanks to a certain poet on staff at a kick-ass college, I am about to have ( Read more... )

Well, I am 24 today. I could have earned a degree by now and been working on my second; however, I am not going to dwell on that---- I've let those thoughts sadden me too much ( Read more... )

I adore Margaret Atwood. She was at Emory last year, and I wasn't able to listen to her lecture. Maybe one day I'll have the chance to hear her wisdom. Right now I have morning in the burned house open--- beautiful poems.

Since my birthday is coming a group of us went bowling last night at and we had a fucking good time. We drank, chatted, and joked around while we waited for our three lanes to open. Then we got our bowl on. It was so much fun. Since songs like "Play that Funky Music White Boy," "Baby Got Back," "Bringing Sext Back," and the "Electric Slide" ( Read more... )

I ask one of my favorite interns to bring her notes from class to work with her, so I can read and copy them.

Last night was the monthly poetry group that I started. The topic last night was imagery. Here's one of the poems I shared with everyone ( Read more... )

The other night I had a nightmare that someone broke into the apartment and held a gun to my head. When the tip of the gun touched my head I woke up. Now, I'm all paranoid. Bla.

What's the first poem you remember reading?

Those moments before a poem comes,
when the heightened awareness comes over you, and you
realize a poem is buried there somewhere, you prepare yourself.
I run around, you know, kind of skipping
around the house, marvelous elation.
It's as though I could fly.
~ Anne Sexton