I can't begin to express the experience of Sewanee, but I can say that I won't soon forget it: phenomenal readings and writers and musicians, late-night revelry at the French House, after-party ping-pong tournies, and a slew of new friends (I'll miss you all).
For the British Jersey girl, who is basically a hobbit; for my fellow Libran with the scales to balance her breasts; for my late-night catwalker and churchgoer and res companion; for the funniest harmonica player ever; for Dr. Pepper, who played me a song when I needed it most; for all the Benedictians! May we never forget Melrose Place and what it means to be lamb-hawked and pond-dropped and foodchained.
I am in awe of the writers who I've had the chance to work with (especially Alan Shapiro, who may be the most astute reader I've ever met); I'm so grateful for the past two weeks.
Now, I'm home, resting my liver and hangin' low.
On the poetry scene---an update: I have a poem forthcoming in the winter issue of Sewanee Theological Review and two others in the fall issue of Blackbird.
=)
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