Poet's Ramble

Poetry can be as simple as a four-line revelation hastily scrawled on the back of your phone bill. Poets ask for trouble if they have anything important to say, and the best ones slog through plenty of it. Poems are the instant coffee in your spoon that you chew on without adding water. I am a poet, and this is my story.

Thursday, September 21, 2006

R.I..P, -- temporarily -- Talking Poetry

Three people -- two casual acquaintances and one admired acq uaintance -- I told face-to-face about Talking Poetry at Trout Lily said they'd try to attend September 19. None did.
.. . . . That's okay. I agreed to moderate it. I don't believe that the proprietor of the establishment's disinterest in writing and distributing a news release affected the outcome. Nor did her removing the promotional flier I gave mer after displaying it less than two weeks. Nor did her declaring it finished after tthree weeks. Nor did MY getting the date wrong in the news release I distributed two weeks after the release should have gone to the media. Everyone I know who calls himself or herself a poet WORKS on Tuesday afternoon. So attempting to reach that likely-miniscule "niche" of poets and poetry enthusiasts who don't work Tuesdays seemed like a moon shot from the get go.
. . . . That's okay. I successfully produced a flyer which was distributed to all the public libraries in town and five downtown businesses and one institutions of higher learning. I produced a news release, gave it to the person whom, for propriety's sake was the appropriate sharer of news of the event, followed her advice when I learned she had not had the time to email it to the media, and appeared at the venue on time each of the three weeks in which I was permitted to sit on the luncing pad, ready to go.
. . . . . Talking poetry will rise again, sports fans and athletic supporters. And I'll tell you all about it when it do. Stay tuned . . . .


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