DURING the whole of a dull, dark, and soundless day in the autumn of the year, when the clouds hung oppressively low in the heavens…
-Edgar Allen Poe Fall of the House of User
We’re getting in to my favorite season now. There’s a crispness in the mornings. Though…there has been since about mid-August, but I can pretend.
My first public reading is on Friday night and I am beyond panicked about this. I haven’t read poetry out loud since high school, which, well, we’ll just say was long enough ago to make me a little rusty. I have chosen a somewhat longer selection than my usual poetry that is more of a dialogue between my father and myself, but I am unsure about the protocol regarding this, and may switch to something more indicative of my style (and also a bit less prose in nature) after going through my files, as I intend to do later today.
That’s going to be messy as well. Some of the pieces in there haven’t seen the light of day in almost a decade…and with good reason.
There is power in youthful self-indulgent poetry though. I won’t deny that. Where would be be literarily without it?