It's been one more wedding anniversary, back to back home runs and a Saturday off from submitting and writing and yes, one more week since my last confession.
Saturday being our wedding anniversary I took a break from both submitting and writing so that we could get out of the house and celebrate without distraction. We succeeded in doing so and I did not worry that the sky would fall in. I confess that it would not have been surprising for me to freak out about not at least submitting if not writing, but I was proud of myself, maybe a bit relived even that I did not stress out. I was able to separate myself completely from any obsession that I changed my routine. It really was refreshing to feel the detachment.
My son and I went to the ball game on Sunday and amazingly the Royals had back to back home runs. Almost as amazing they won. They have had little offense of late. Of course when it comes to baseball I confess my heart really belongs to San Francisco.
A few days ago I read an article about another article. And then another about the same article (of the second part). Okay, if this is getting confusing the article about which all others pointed was a Harper's essay by Mark Edmundson titled Poetry Slam or the decline of American Verse. The Edmundson Essay sits behind the Harper's paywall, and I'm not a subscriber so I've not seen the real thing. (That too is a confession) Edmundson at least by the quotes from other responses I've read was pretty harsh in his assessment of the current poetry scene. I've talked with a couple of other poets who have read the responses but again not the Edmundson essay. It's funny but such discourse about poetry/poetics often remind me of hot stove league. If you are not into baseball, the hot stove league is the chatter that of the happens off season between baseball fans pining for the real thing. They debate possible trades, theoretic benefits of such player swaps between teams. I confess I have long seen similarities between poetry and baseball. It's no wonder I love both.