My daughter Shannon rode into the city with us today as her car was in the shop. Somehow our discussions always gravitate to something interesting, and not uncommonly something related to poetry.
My wife made some comment about something being like a poetic moment, to which I asked if one can actually have a poetic moment without being a poet. [I take such abuse from them I felt compelled to stir the pot a bit] Knowing neither would likely admit to being poets I was anxious to learn their take on this. The discussion then digressed and traveled down a couple of divergent paths.
Our discussion followed a news story on NPR about some changes in various mental illness categories in the revised DSM. The DSM is the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. It’s like the trade “bible” for mental health professionals. My wife wondered aloud if poets had a classification within the updated DSM. Of course the three of us chuckled although mine was half hearted and mostly for aesthetic value.
Shannon then pronounced that she wanted to become a limerick artist. That she felt limericks have been marginalized by society and that she would like to help them regain proper stature. I suppose the same could be said for poetry in general. The discussion then took yet another turn to Dr. Seuss and his writing style. Morning drive time can be so fun.
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