That's me in the last row with my hand to my head (astonished by a word or line I'm guessing) (and to my left poet Jeff Wright and to my right, my youngest Flynn and next to him his friend Luke) at a poetry reading last night in Manhattan, where everyone of the five poets (Keisha-Gaye Anderson, Gillian Cummings, Heather Treseler, George Guida (who took the photo), and Mark Statman), and one prose writer (Katherine Koch reading from a memoir) had their moments of word magic. I had gone to see Mark and Katherine and was pleasantly surprised to discover some of the others, and totally delighted by the work Mark and Kathrine read.
I've been attending poetry readings since the late 1950s and running weekly reading series for a lot of that time, so at this point and age I not only have some challenges getting to readings but my initial impulse is to feel the cumulative weight of sixty years of going to them at least once and often several times a week and decide to skip them. But when I do feel up to it, I am always engaged and even entertained and often inspired. And despite the occasional disappointment, and even then, I find it always worthwhile and almost always fulfilling. Happy to see so many others still do too.
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