...was "The Old Poet, Dying" by August Kleinzahler from The Strange Hours Travelers Keep.
As my fellow alumni from the Sage Hill Fall Poetry Colloquium know, I begin each morning with coffee and poems. It's been a habit of mine for years, but it was especially conspicuous at St. Michael's because I'd park myself in one of those large armchairs, feet up on a register, the view of the Qu'Appelle Valley before me. It was heavenly. At home I always begin my morning reading by my favourite window, the east light falling on the pages, the cat curled up beside me. Anyhow, I thought I'd post the first poem I read today, a variation of Edward Willett's practice on his blog.
8 comments:
Hm, I thought I had that book. Must be around here somewhere. Oh, wait ...
PJ
I will return it, I promise!
I've been terribly distracted by my growing collection of weird weird cards. I pinned the alligator between the scary cat and the golly-that-was-fun lady, but I dunno...
And now you have a new pet! (Not just on paper, either. I'm branching out with the weirdness. *g*)
PJ
Yes. The cards, the jam, the chair, the CD, and now a new, gorgeous, but very odd pet. Branching, indeed! :)
I'll get it to pose for a photo...
I'm confused. Did you jam your cat into a CD and beat it with a chair branch? Why, Brenda? Why?
What a great, great idea--to post the first poem you read today.
Even better--to read a poem a day. I tend to go quite a few days (okay, months) and then read a ton of poems all at once.
Are you going to keep this up? Even periodically? I'd *love* to read about it.
Ha! That's terrible, G. My cat would have none of that. I will post a photo in the next few days that should clear things up.
Thanks, Amy! I plan to.
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