Confession Tuesday

Happy Tuesday, folks! It’s not just any Tuesday … It’s the first Tuesday of National Poetry Month! Share a bit of your poetics selves with us and we promise to do this same.

I thought I had it all: health, happiness, great kids, dream job. But I was wrong. I was missing this:

A fascinator!

This fascinator, as modeled by Ella, was given to me by my good friend Colleen. She’s knows I have been really stressed lately. It was an impulse buy (I mean, who plans to buy a fascinator?!). We were just making the rounds in Salem, stopping in on festival venues when we passed at hat store. We started trying them on, and while there were certainly flashier, more expensive fascinators, this one spoke to me. I will be wearing it on Easter Sunday.

Maybe I should make one for Ella. (Yeah, in all my spare time!)
Thanks, Colleen! XO


Festival planning has completely taken over my life. When I sleep (if I sleep), I dream of the online schedule. When I’m speaking to people, I’m looking into their eyes but thinking about the 10 other things that need my attention. The only time I seem to be focused on other things is with the kids, and rightfully so. Hard to think about venues and button sales when I’m shooting hoops with my son.


Things I will do the Monday after the festival:

• Sleep
• Not work
• Get a back massage at local spa
• Go shopping with my mom
• Take kids out for dinner, something other than McDonalds and Chuck E Cheese's

All of this work has been offset by these moments of complete satisfaction. Today, for instance, when I received my invite to read with The Mom Egg panel, I was psyched. Even though I scheduled the event, I was kinda jazzed about reading with the lovely ladies on this panel (will post a listing this week). Beyond the numbers and the room assignments and book orders and hotel reservations, there is poetry here.


NPM poems written: 2. Poem no. 3 is waiting to be born.


If you know someone working on the Mass Poetry Festival, send your light and love to them. They are working extremely hard to make it all look seamless.




dylan said…
I've been writing a poem a day since the first of the month. I've discovered two things, two conditions, that have to be met in order for the poetry to happen:

1. It has to be written before the sun comes up. Ideally, between four and five o'clock.

2. Generous, prodigious, oceanic quantities of black coffee must be within reach.

I've also been working on an old poem whose first draft dates from 1996. The poem is sad, really. I don't mean sad in mood, but rather infirm and dorky. But there's something about it that I wish to keep. For whatever reason!

I do wish that I had had a teacher, a sage woman or man, skilled in the craft, who could have cured me of my inveterate bombast ...

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