Finally got to the Poetry Jam at Cafe Gutenberg, revitalized and renewed through the leadership of T.S. Prunier.

It was most excellent, a covey of poets and a dash of audience, good wine and excellent food (says me) and a real need to get to my webpage and update the calendar.

Alas, I came home and started reading "The Bedside Companion to the No Tell Motel" which arrived in the mail today and read until I was too tired to make sense of it. It is delightful! Funny poems, sweet poems, heart-breakers, and horny-mama verse.

get one- you won't be sorry!

You know what I enjoyed about tonight's poetry? So much variety, acceptance, joy in words. I always feel obscure and deep (as in shit) in the face of 'slammish' but not tonight. My stuff is counched and careful compared to bare-souling, pretty on the page but not first-read (or first-hear) experience. I envy the spoken souls for their heart sleeves.

But nobody cared, everybody listened. Why can't most MFA's be more like that and less in their fucking heads???

oooo- bias showing, ask me after Thursday when I go to the Virginia Museum for Art After Hours and less transparent pages.