I heard an excerpt of this poem on my favorite morning radio show this morning, during a report about the Poetry Foundation. I howled with laughter at the first line, and delighted in the words as they flowed on.
Mingus at the Showplace
BY WILLIAM MATTHEWS
I was miserable, of course, for I was seventeen,
and so I swung into action and wrote a poem,
and it was miserable, for that was how I thought
poetry worked: you digested experience and shat
literature.
Read the rest of the poem here.
And I am so thankful that in the digital age, radio hasn't died, and neither has poetry. Happy Wednesday, friends.
2 comments:
I'm nodding in agreement with you, Bethany. Thanks for sharing!
Hi Bethany - I have just found your blog. You write so beautifully and from a very honest and soulful place. I know you have bravely shared your grief, and you are so tender and open and changed from losing your mum so very recently. You write from the rawness of it all and I appreciate that immensely. I have recently started my blog and yesterday I wrote about my father, who died of cancer many many moons ago. I just wanted to share it with you. In years to come, it might resonate in a different way than it does today. http://www.writetobeyou.com/2012/01/finding-fortune.html I have joined your site and will keep reading. Be gentle on yourself and take care.
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