Rotate the foodstuffs!

It's been a good couple of days, I would say.  Let's rewind to Thursday (and I realize I've been absent a while, but get over it), when I had my weekly poetry workshop.  Now, I'm going to start off by saying that I love all the people in my workshop, because they're smart, creative, and generally both articulate and insightful about what needs to be done to improve a poem.  Still, the first time through on getting my work reviewed was a mixed bag, because while everybody liked a lot of the imagery in it, they pointed out a lot of dead weight that needed to be axed, and then the general consensus was that the poem lacked a certain finish or punch -- i.e., where's it going?  All totally true, and I needed an outsider perspective to see it, since the damn things bounce around in my head so much I really can't step far enough away from my work to really do a good job of auto-critiquing (it's a skill I'm hoping to develop in the next few years).  This week, though, there were glowing reviews of the poem I had submitted, including an implicit comparison to Hopkins, which made me feel warm and fuzzy.  Not that the poem's perfect, not at all, and I got a lot of good ideas about how to tighten up the language in the less strong portions.  Still, ego boost.  I'm not above acknowledging this to myself.  Riding on the wave of that good feeling, I volunteered to be one of the readers at the next Mother Tongue reading, which will be at Barley's Underground (it's on High in front of the North Market) on Oct 26.  Mark your calendars!  I'll be reminding as the date draws closer.

( et caetera )