I figure when the marquises of rural barbecue shacks start sending you messages like “poet bad,” it must be time to listen. The sign was right. Week three of school is done, and I have read embarrassingly little. Right now the family’s still asleep. I’m awake. I have a good hour, maybe two.
Time to binge. I have my Bread Loaf stack to devour, as well as some new arrivals. I have Ellen Bryant Voight, Michae Collier, Patrick Donnelly, Linda Bierds, Sally Keith, and Emilia Philips. I also have Joe Hall’s second collection, The Devotional Poems. I have Beckian Fritz-Goldberg, Tony Hoagland, and Nathan Hoks. I have Best American Poetry 2013. I’m not leaving this table until I feel my subconscious heave.