Ha, I wish. I have to paint a wall, buy the paint, finish a story for work (get back to me, people), and pick up a small chair that’s been reupholstered. Black.
My first Misery poem is up at concis. It’s simply called “Misery 31.”
I think a recorded reading of a poem can ruin it. The poem on the page is expansive and porous. A voice pierces it. It’s like illustrating a book. You drew a character in your mind, and suddenly a different image barges in.
This is not always so. Some poets are great readers.
If the department of transportation decides phone calls are OK on board airplanes I will really start reading aloud aloft. I have done this on the subway when someone would not shut up.
The day before a day off is always the better day.
Going to put on my paint-splattered pants and bike to the DIY store. At some point. Today.