It has been a pretty productive weekend, poetry-wise. (Let's not discuss how every football team I root for loses. Apparently, I have the bad juju. For a small fee, i will cheer for your enemy's team.) In all, I've managed to read Hugo's The Triggering Town twice, Sexton's All My Pretty Ones once through, and I've started Hugo's The Woman in Kicking Horse Reservoir.
Not bad for a single weekend. I've already posted on Hugo's book on craft, and there will be a post on Sexton shortly (if you haven't read her, you must). I'm still reeling from shock at the emotional response I had to her slim volume. It's crushing. I'm devastated. She is someone to read if you're interested to see how a poet can work with rhyme and not be hokey. Hugo's poetry is slower going for me at the moment.
I also managed to bang out a few pieces: "Alzheimers," "In Bed," "The Puertorriqueno," "The Courtesan," and "Lovely Desert" are all pieces I am mostly happy with, and there are a few fragments that will come in handy the longer I stare at them. Not bad for two days work - especially considering that there were 4 NFL playoff games that caught my attention for more than a few hours.
I've also been Twittering too much. As though people care what I'm up to from moment to moment. Ah, well. I'll be more productive this week. Packet 2 of 5 for my MFA semester is due on Wednesday, and there is a good deal of library-related work to be done at...well, at work. Here's to being busy, and birthing beauty from the chaos, when we can.
I finished a large-ish collection of Sexton's poems not too long ago, and I was equally blown away. Her poems about being in a mental institution rocked me to the core.
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