Confession Tuesday

If it's Tuesday, it's time for your confessions. Share a bit of yourself with us and we promise to do the same.

L to R (back row): Maryann O'Neil, Annie Finch, Maggie Finch, me, Stanley Gill, Rosemary Gill. Front row: Ella and Alex O'Neil.

This photo, taken by Katie Fanara on the Saturday of the Mass Poetry Festival, was one of the nicest, most unexpected moments I had during the weekend. After participating in the Fire on Her Tongue session (which was fabulous, BTW), I had the chance to have a picture taken with Annie Finch (in blue) with her mother, Maggie Finch, who was celebrating her 91st birthday. So not only do I have my parents, my mother-in-law, and kids around me, I take a photo with Annie Finch's family. How cool is that?


There's an article on Mass Poetry's site about Annie Finch and her new book, A Poet's Craft.


Aaah, spring. Now that the festival is over I'm starting to feel my life again. Classes have ended and the grading begins. But I'm discovering huge pockets of time I didn't have before. Since January, I've been on a frenetic pace to the end of the semester. Now I'm experiencing a bit of a denouement--I kinda like it! During the summer, my main responsibilities will be administrative for Mass Poetry and Salem State. So I'm thrilled that the next few months will allow me to organize and get ahead of teaching and festival planning. Yahoo!


It's also time to focus on writing poems again. I have a mini retreat coming up in June, so ahead of that I'd like to write a few new poems and work on revising them through the summer. And not the same old same old. I'd like to work with forms, maybe sonnets. Maybe a sonnet crown. Hmmm ...

Also, I have to decide what I am going to do for my third book. I have to start planning that project soon.

Could be time for a to-do list.


R.I.P. Adam Yauch.

At my first job, working at Circle 6 Theatres in Norfolk, VA, the Beasties and Whitney Houston were in full rotation as we cleaned up the popcorn kernels, butter flavoring, and Coke syrup nightly from behind the concession stand. I loved how the Beasties matured, even apologized for some of their earlier, sometimes offensive, lyrics. Still, it is hard to watch artists from my teens and 20s pass away.


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