The fair days of fall are here--no rain forecast for the next few days at least--and I'm stuck this week with a split shift, 12-8, that lets me enjoy neither morning nor evening outside. I'm ready to get back to my 7-3: as much as I hate getting up at 5 (okay, more like 5:30 after I hit the snooze button once or twice), I love coming home in mid-afternoon and feeling like there's something left of the day.
The Hoagland reading was as expected: good, but nothing to take away and ponder, no lines ringing in my head, no images that rang with sudden recognition. I'm not being completely fair. It was a good reading. He brought race into the conversation, which is admirable. I'm pretty familiar with several of his books, so wasn't expecting to be too surprised. He's a lovely person. I hear his Q&A went very well. In the end, I just didn't feel that the poems went far enough. Maybe that's an unfair expectation. I'm just sayin'.
Must rush to shower and stop at the post office to mail four chapbooks. I have about a dozen more of Catherine Staples' chapbook ready to mail and hope I can get those out tomorrow. Tonight, assembling more covers of Daniel Terry's Days of Dark Miracles and thinking about the cover design of Louis McKee's forthcoming chap.
This is all I do.
Cynthia Neely: Hopewell Bay
1 week ago