Purchased at Talking Leaves...Books during the same author visit to Buffalo mentioned yesterday.
Unfortunately, the cover has a slight tear in it. I can't quite tell, but it may go as deep as the spine. It almost looks as if it got pressed against the side of a box and folded during one of our many moves. The white cover paper is also starting to yellow a tad.
I saw Laura last year at AWP. I'd put together a panel of poets who work as arts administrators and I stupidly didn't think to invite her -- she's the deputy director of Small Press Distribution, so she'd have been perfect.
Thankfully, she attended and had lots of interesting things to add to the conversation.
The difference between strength and power is that one is generous. One is present. One assumes the other one. There is no conflict. There is no point left out.
A natural event happens slowly like a landscape. It was like waltzing with an ecologist who used to be a mystic. Ot it was better than that. Like being made of flesh and blood. We share our sense of arrangement.
We call it up in ourselves.
We sing our heads off.
We are congruent with the story that is happening there. Fresh characters arrive like children. We are a monograph, an autograph. We have an identity. A logo.
It doesn't begin or end. It needs to be fleshed out conceived written thought. Something goes away. Something made from what is left is not imaginary or real. The past is not a story. The idea is access. Everything that happens to us is history. The rest is waiting.
Saturday, April 2, 2011