Carolee Bennett –> poet. artist. crankypants.
lots of bloggers understandably get excited by the amount of traffic they receive. if my blog had traffic, i would probably get excited, too. instead, it’s strange little things that make me happy, a few very telling anecdotes that provide some order amid the chaos.
at least half the nights now, the sun takes her heat with her when she goes, a sure sign that it is late august. we’re closing in on fall, and the most sensitive leaves are turning color already. with fall comes the beginning of school — the chaos of homework and sports schedules, the thick clumsiness of early morning, meals on the run. this fall, it’s not just the boys who are heading back to school. i’ve finally taken the plunge into an MFA program.
a warm august evening on willett street. one of my neighbors asks what i’m reading. before i can answer, his partner tells him, she’s not reading. she’s writing. she’s a poet. i tilt my head as far back as it goes and admire the crooked line against the sky made by roofs of the brownstones and the church on the corner. it is the border between the positive and negative spaces. a metaphor, if ever there were one.