I don't know why I didn't blog at all this week. Apparently I lost my will to blog. Also live. Also eat cupcakes. It was a bad week in some ways, but I'm better now.
I was listening to (cliche alert!) NPR this morning on my way to (cliche alert!) the Farmer's Market this morning to watch fellow Salt Lakers (cliche alert!) sip coffee and parade their rescue dogs around Pioneer Park. ANYWAY. I was interested in the interview with a writer whose name I missed (but his British-type accent was dead sexy) who called the reading and writing of poetry a Slow Word Movement--not unlike the Slow Food Movement. His point, of course, was that to read poems, you have to slow down and savor what's there in order to have a meaningful experience.
I loved this little analogy and wanted to say one of the pleasures of this otherwise disappointing week was to read some poems by my friend Lisa Bickmore, who often posts here. She's all about the Slow Word Movement, and I feel nourished because she shared her work with me. She used to be my second favorite poet after W. B. Yeats. But now she is officially my favorite poet.
And actually now that I think about it--I saw and heard from several friends this past week and that was all good, too. Thank you, friends.
Yes. In my happy place now.
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1 comment:
You are so. sweet.
I am struggling with a monumental bout of impatience with my own work, so I must say it seems quite remarkable that it could give pleasure to anyone . . . but I will try to wrap my mind around that notion. Thank you for saying so.
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