Thursday, April 24, 2014

Making Room for One More Thing

It is a fair week. No drama. No deep pain. Way too much to do and I am mastering the art of trying to find ways not to do half of it.

I've keep a steady pace on posting poetry videos to Twitter and by extension Facebook. I normally don't post unless I have some thing to say. This is counter to my day to day activities when I can't shut up. In case you haven't heard it is National Poetry Month.

Understandable if you didn't know. Whole lot of blovating going on.

I got slam poets and traditional reading the book poets and a cowboy poet and I can't for the life of me find enough middle age dames that read poetry on video. Young ones, old ones, black ones, Asian ones and a few I don't dare classify.

Freaking ought to let the poets take over CNN for a weekend. The book readers and the explicit ones and the ones that we bring back from old audios and videos files.

Anything to get their minds off the black box. 

I recorded this dude, eh excuse me, poet and author Christopher Merrill at the L.A. Times Festival of Books 2014.




It is dense and there is a love of language. It isn't the kind of poem you whip out during a poetry workshop. You have to be quiet to tune into it and enter that world.

Which is why most folks don't have time to take in a verse or two.

Hence, my need to post poetry videos and video poems on Twitter. Because I should be working on my EAD final. And planing my next steps for vacations and trips I want to take.

And work on de-cluttering.

And find a new audio book to listen to as I sleep. I really liked the BBC Issac Asimov Foundations Series.

And, and, and those suckers keep pileing up and I got other stuff to do as well.

It is better to have things to do than to feel like you have nothing at all. That leads to people offing themselves.

Never a good thing. Nope.

So I'm going to work on my project. It will be okay. I know basic HTML. I understand enough XML to rack the stuff up and have tutorials coming out of my skin.  I'll get right to it.

So as I finish looking up a Bukowski poem.

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