Poetry Night Confession-
Dear Reader:
I just got in not long ago and I'm fulfilling my confessional obligation. I met with the Northland poetry people tonight. It's a long way from my home turn and the location is even further then it used to be but I left from work so the worst part of the drive was returning home.
I've not been out an about a lot lately. That's not so much a confession as it is simply a fact. Since I was experiencing one of those doubtful moments all writers have only days ago, I seriously thought about not going but my wife was staying late in town at here office so I figured what the heck.
One of my writing friends who I will call Pat ( her real name) was all aglow having gone to Chicago the other day to hear W.S. Merwin do his poetry day reading. I confess that I was majorly envious of Pat for having made the trip to the reading. I mean Merwin! In my estimation he is among the Deans of American Poetry. As it was I brought a copy of Merwin's Migration to read from. This brings me to my next confession.
Pat asked to borrow my copy of Migration. I confess that I've never been one to lend books often. I don't know why. I don't have a history of not having them returned. I think it must stem from the fact that I have books that I read and reread often so it seems hard to separate myself from some of my favorites. At any rate, Pat asked and I actually let her barrow it. Knowing how excited she was about Merwin, as I write this I'm actually very glad I lent it out. Migration is chucked full of his work and she will be exposed to a lot of really awesome poetry. Amen!
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