. . .is what the postcard says that came in the mail today--with Martin Espada talking about Pablo Neruda and Eamon Grennan on Emily Dickinson up in KC at the library. The return address is Poets House, New York. It's bulk mail that actually makes me feel as if I belong, vs. only being a random consumer. Then I must ask, who sent my name there when I subscribed or submitted? But being on the "poetry reader" list isn't all that bad, occasionally I get a sample copy of a journal or a good offer for subscribing. I'm reading Poetry this year on the cheap.
Which reminds me, I need to subscribe to a few more 'zines as all of my other subscriptions have run dry. I've been buying books, books, oh, and more books recently. I am starting to feel as if I have the beginning of a good library. Nothing as good as Poets House, of course. I want to go there one day and sit with the poetry. But, everything today seems far away.
I'm actually supposed to be in KC on one of the dates of the Great Poet talks. Perhaps I can hear Eamon on ED. Can anyone make me fall for ED? I'm still waiting for the socks to be knocked off my feet.
I read H.D.'s Bid Me to Live tonight and found myself barefooted.