|Knife-ier than I thought they'd be. #extradeadly|
And I wore my new green velvet chelsea boots for the first time:
Also, I wore tights for the first time. First Tights Day is kind of a big deal around here.
I got some grading done. Well, a little grading.
At the end of the day, the historian and I made the epic journey out of the house on a school night. Degree of difficulty: medium difficulty, because, firstly, it was raining, and secondly, we're edging upon The Great Darkness, wherein it's dark by 6 or so, and basically because (thirdly) we're mammals, The Great Darkness means it's time to hibernate, I think? Anyway, we braved our most primal evolutionary natures and went out to a poetry reading, where I got to hear one of my favorite poets, Campbell McGrath.
I first read Campbell McGrath when I was reading an issue of BOMB on an airplane. The article had an interview and a couple of poems from American Noise. Those poems shook me up. I thought, I have got to read this book!
I told Campbell McGrath this story, like a rank fangirl, tonight when I met him briefly after the reading. Oh well. What exactly was I supposed to say? I loved your villanelle about Charlie Parker. I could have said that, because I did, I really did.
Also, I could have tried to strike up a conversation about poetry in America, whithersoever it may be going, syntax, line breaks, rhythm, and so forth. The prose poem. Or I could have simply recited this poem, which electrified me on that plane and continues to set a buzz going in my nerves to this day: