1 Reason to Like Stephen Vincent
"The Towers - how we watched them
The calendar in the garbage can
The selves I no longer am
The shadow in an index"
Stephen Vincent
from "When the Tall Bucket"
plus, it's got birds enit
"Again, April called
The going was rough
All along they brought us porcupine quills"
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book note: 2 Sweetest Words in The English Language are IN PRESS
4 down
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current favorite blog quote from Anne Haines:
"a good workshop is like good (and slightly kinky) sex"
uh-yup
big ass mola mola
Thanks, Anne, for putting me back on Race Point, and out from beneath the shadow of the point of Race. Nice poem. I like the open, airy, space & spray of it. Heck, it's there. And, *there*. No draft, it captures the wind in mid-blow. Nice to see this peony open. There couldn't be a better place for it than Provincetown. And who says there's no place for poetry? Do me a favor Anne, try my breakfast of champions (well, lunch or early supper actually, since this would follow 6 miles of dune walking & critter gawking: "Seal!"): a dozen raw Wellfleet oysters and a Black & Tan (Harp over Guiness) at the Foc'sle (sp) which is probably no longer there, and probably just as well as these years, I'd skip the Black & Tan anyway and go early in the morning and eat them straight out of the bucket . Flounder & eggs, I think, is the perfect poet's breakfast—confounded with connotations for the early riser. Thanks, too, for the pic. Gawd, I love that place. Were I flush I'd fly over there just for the Kunitz.
"You, too, have inhabited a blue sentence
Night in patches, black, more black
Hold on to your voice. . ."
The calendar in the garbage can
The selves I no longer am
The shadow in an index"
Stephen Vincent
from "When the Tall Bucket"
plus, it's got birds enit
"Again, April called
The going was rough
All along they brought us porcupine quills"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
book note: 2 Sweetest Words in The English Language are IN PRESS
4 down
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
current favorite blog quote from Anne Haines:
"a good workshop is like good (and slightly kinky) sex"
uh-yup
big ass mola mola
Thanks, Anne, for putting me back on Race Point, and out from beneath the shadow of the point of Race. Nice poem. I like the open, airy, space & spray of it. Heck, it's there. And, *there*. No draft, it captures the wind in mid-blow. Nice to see this peony open. There couldn't be a better place for it than Provincetown. And who says there's no place for poetry? Do me a favor Anne, try my breakfast of champions (well, lunch or early supper actually, since this would follow 6 miles of dune walking & critter gawking: "Seal!"): a dozen raw Wellfleet oysters and a Black & Tan (Harp over Guiness) at the Foc'sle (sp) which is probably no longer there, and probably just as well as these years, I'd skip the Black & Tan anyway and go early in the morning and eat them straight out of the bucket . Flounder & eggs, I think, is the perfect poet's breakfast—confounded with connotations for the early riser. Thanks, too, for the pic. Gawd, I love that place. Were I flush I'd fly over there just for the Kunitz.
"You, too, have inhabited a blue sentence
Night in patches, black, more black
Hold on to your voice. . ."
posted by Lorna Dee Cervantes at 7:45 AM
2 Comments:
Provincetown, yes... sigh. I've been gone from there only a few hours now and already I miss it. I seriously think I'm going to apply to FAWC's low-residency MFA program once they get it going.
You know, they offer their summer-program faculty an extra week of housing if they want to stick around town after their teaching week -- you should see if they'd bring you out to teach next summer, if you're interested in that. Such a magical place...
I keep going back to your poem, Anne, it's gorgeous.
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