23 October 2009
Wherein the author is unusually refreshed.
Usually I get about five hours of sleep a night, waking up at 5:30, but my daughter had the day off from school today, so I got to sleep until 6:50 (when my son woke up), and it made such a difference. Then I was somewhat non-hassled getting ready, since there was no elementary school urgency, and I took care of some household chores, and that made me really happy. Sometimes I'm baffled by the things that make me happy.
I subbed for a friend's class today, and it was a delight. I am looking forward to the days when I get to be a teacher again, and just a teacher, not 2/3 administrator 1/3 teacher. Only 2.6 more years to go. Sigh.
I am teaching these books in my Spring MFA class. I've been carrying around the copy of Harmonium everywhere I go. So far the students, with a few exceptions, are happy about the syllabus.
The Collected Poems of Barbara Guest
Meditations in an Emergency, Frank O'Hara
Ariel, Sylvia Plath
Harmonium, Wallace Stevens
Last week I was on fire in the blog department, but this week wasn't as fruitful.
What was fruitful? The chocolate-covered strawberry and apple that I just consumed.
I haven't written a poem in two weeks. Tonight I have to scrub orange juice off my hardwood floor and wall (apparently Ray really meant it when he dropped his cup the other day), but once that's done I intend to write.
Here's a new online litmag to submit to: NOP (pronounced "nope,"). The editors are a stellar bunch. Check out the call for submissions. It's not on paper!
I could be grumbling about the rain right now, but the amazing Dora Malech has two poems in THERMOS, so obviously all is right in the world.
I (almost) always root for the underdog.
There's one more week to submit to Barn Owl Review. Check out the new review of Dick of the Dead by Rachel Loden.
I've been good about keeping things updated over on my website, but not as successful in updating this dear old blog. Many apologi...
It's the first day of finals week and I already have that loopy off-my-routine feeling. Waiting for things to grade, and when those ...
I'm trying like heck to remember what last year's spring break was like. Has it gotten to that point? Where every year blurs in...
I don't think I'm alone in saying that poets are often the most in love with their current work. At least that's the case w...