03.15.04

Oh my aching muscles . . . but I wrote a poem last evening at the Subterranean Beat Revival. What is the mojo there? I tried to write all afternoon Sunday and got nowhere. Within 15 minutes of getting to the Rabbit Hole, I'm spewin' out a poem.

Of course, my poetry's pretty blunt. I try to write my truth. It comes out of me to the point and no quibbling.

CC asked if I had anything to read. I said I had nothing new, but he persevered until I agreed. Thank goodness the muse bit me on the ass.

It felt strange, reading my new poem that talks about my muscles suffering "sweet soreness." Strange, because those muscles still ached. Truth be known, it was kind of a thrill.

An audience member came up to me and another reader, JE, after we'd both read. He said that it's nice to hear women's voices. That so many times it's just men reading and it's the same-old same-old.

I'm not putting the poem up until I can give it (send it? read it?) to the author of that ache.

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