Bitten by literature
Monday and at my desk early for more canine capers, the results of which I sent off to Paris this afternoon. Little else to report. Made off to the stanza poetry workshop this evening, some more interesting work, and a guy of about 26 called Peter had suddenly been bitten by literature after falling in love, and had been reading John Keats and Charles Bukowski avidly.
Robin was handing over the baton of organising the workshop to a male Robin. I read a new poem about W.B. Yeats and myself being bitten by literature, and Tess Jolly suggested an edit which fixed it for me, which was great. Straight home afterwards as I was feeling tired, Lorraine and Beth upstairs I sat in the garden for a few minutes at 9:30 and it was still light and birds were singing, and the few clouds looked lovely and I had a sense of all being right with the world.
Robin was handing over the baton of organising the workshop to a male Robin. I read a new poem about W.B. Yeats and myself being bitten by literature, and Tess Jolly suggested an edit which fixed it for me, which was great. Straight home afterwards as I was feeling tired, Lorraine and Beth upstairs I sat in the garden for a few minutes at 9:30 and it was still light and birds were singing, and the few clouds looked lovely and I had a sense of all being right with the world.
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