Spent the evening at an open mic in Scranton, followed up with some shopping, mostly for cat food. I'm tired now, and a little down because of the looming prospect of having to dispose of my broken-down twenty-one year old car. So, no post today.
One thing this National Poetry Month exercise has made me realize is how very few poets I'm actually familiar with. I need to remedy that.
I have two non-poem posts planned before the end of the month: one about the value of a writing group to a poet, and another titled "Who gets to write poetry?" But those are for other nights.
The narcissistic primarily autobiographical blog of the pseudonymous d.b. echo
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