The next word that I need to fit into a poem. Circa's still rumbling around, too. Why? Sound.
Anyway, I made it to Sewanee, and though it's only day two (or really, the first full day), it feels longer already. Thus far:
Lake swims & ankle snakes, a second shower to the day; curry & rice & laughing; wine & beer and wine & beer: courtyard banter; late night to early morning strolls: campus cats & sewer coons, a herd of deer & crenellated turrets. Forgetting to unlock my neighbor's bathroom door (sorry!).
The campus is lovely. According to Wyatt Prunty, the buildings were built from sandstone quarried from the area. The architecture and the nature feel very male/female to me: sandstone fortresses and lush, lazy trees. It's a fist of a city, a tight-knit town, and the people (local and from all over) are extraordinarly friendly.
Last night, Alice McDermott read a story (forgive me, I've forgotten the title), which she composed by following an assignment she'd given her students. The task was to write a story based on another author's story; she'd chosen James Joyce's "The Dead," in which turns are made through the use of music. So McDermott's 16-year old son, Patrick signaled the turns in her story with his irish flute. Really neat. And he got more applause in the end than his mother. :)
This morning, fellows Allison Amend (very funny fiction writer), Andrew Kozma, and David Roderick (poet) read. This afternoon, Richard Wilbur, which I'm looking forward to.
For now, lunch, which is sure to cause the rumbling in my gut to ensue (Indian food here could kill a goat, and since last night its been ringing my gut tight). But--I always tell comp students that they shouldn't end on a negative note, so...
After lunch, back to the lake like a mirror, where indeed there is a second sky.
2 comments:
Wilbur? Lucky.
I like Roderick's work about half the time. It's weird, because I was reading through Blue Colonial, and it alternated: like, dislike, like dislike.
Andrew's a nice guy, and sometimes comes with striking facial hair. He went to UF a while before I did. Good poet.
Glad you're having a good time.
Yeah, I know, lucky indeed.
Perhaps Blue Colonial strikes you as like, dislike because of the two threads he's running together? When he read, he separated the pilgrim poems from the autobiographical, which was an interesting choice just because of their arrangement in the book, and later I plan to ask him about that choice (since I'm working on a new series and contemplating blending it with existing work).
So far, so good, thanks. :)
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