Day 7 dawned bright and early and with a few butterflies in the tummy as I headed off to have my poems critiqued. We ended up working on the ghost story and the robin–both works that were in need of revising. It appears that my more imagist tendencies were less successful than my narrative inclinations. The good news is that whatever it is that I have, people want more of it and less compression. I wanted to comment that folks that know me well know that I’m really good at tamping stuff down; in other words, I was playing to strengths, etc. So now, it looks like the ghost story may get transformed into multiple poems of greater depth–or a long poem in sections. Folks seemed to think that the robin poem focused too much on the earthworm. Not sure about that, but I do agree that there needs to be more set-up for the money shot as they say in the movie bizz.

Nicest compliment I received this week: “You really don’t have a book out?”
Biggest kick in the kiester I received this week: “Really? You don’t have a book out?”

Spent the afternoon pre-packing and figuring out how to get all the books I purchased into the luggage. I was quite concerned about the weight of my checked bag, but it turns out I needn’t have worried. On Sunday when I checked in, the bag only weighed 38 lbs; I could have stuffed 12 more pounds in there!

The evening started off with a bang. I won 3 cans of Alaskan Salmon in the silent auction. These aren’t just any salmon. These are salmon caught by the Fields family of Kodiak. Leslie Leyland-Fields teaches in the Seattle Pacific MFA program and has written several books about life in Alaska as well as a book on surprise pregnancies and her latest book on parenting myths that trap us in guilt. The first night I was home, we made the salmon fettucini recipe on the can, and it was tasty.

After standing in line for 40 minutes to pay for my salmon–which included a satisfying moment when I learned that Linford Dettweiler of Over the Rhine who had earlier DOUBLED my bid for a Barry Moser print was himself outbid on that print at the last minute (I have a habit of getting into bidding wars with folk singers)–we settled in for the evening’s concert by Over the Rhine which was sublime. I only cursed my choice of camera lens once, near the end of the show when Karin serenaded birthday boy Greg Wolfe with a Monroe-esque “Happy Birthday, Mr. Editor” (at the request of Wolfe’s wife) and then Julie Mullins danced a fond farewell in her tap shoes. The worship service and annointing that followed were as deeply moving as they have ever been.

Then it was on to the reception where there was hymn singing, hugging, and general farewell-ing. On Sunday morning, after breakfast, I climbed into Bob and Lori’s truck and headed off to an uneventful day of travel home.

After a restful (very late) day, it’s back to action. The morning workshop was back to its by-now expected energy and support. In the afternoon, Bob and I headed out to Arroyo Chamisos DGC for a round of disc golf. After a rough start, I pulled it together and shot a -4. The key: put the driver away, tee off with the midrange. The thin air made the driver way, way overstable while making the Roc stable enough to handle full-on driving power.

Marilyn Nelson provided the evening reading, and she was fantastic. Through no fault of her own, her portion of the evening started almost an hour late, but no one wanted her to stop. In fact, the last question of the Q&A period was a request for an encore poem.

Tomorrow is the day I get critiqued.

Without a car, I had no plans for free day. However, as often happens at the Glen, a wave of communal energy swept me up into a group headed to the International Folk Art Museum on Museum Hill. Since the museum doesn’t allow pics inside the galleries, there’s no images to share. I can say that there was a fantastic exhibit on shadow puppets, and the Girard Collection will surely blow your mind. One of the items that still sticks in my mind is a carved wood Madonna and Child that looks all the world like a representation of Siamese twins.

After a morning at the museum, we headed to the Blue Corn Cafe and Brewery for a wonderful lunch and shelter from a hail storm that dumped 3/4 inch hail. The group then split up. I joined Bob and Lori on tours of the Loretto Chapel and St. Francis Basilica.

The evening was once again filled by the Thomas Parker Society, which seemed to thoroughly enjoy my offerings from Fox and Mask.

Today was definitely overload day. After another energetic and fulfilling morning of workshopping, I ended lunch by having a long conversation with the workshop leader, Marilyn Nelson. In the afternoon, I imbibed the bracing words of Barry Moser who, among other things, challenged us to give up the label “artist” and refer to ourselves by what it is that we do: painter, potter, writer, etc. Then it was a fascinating supper conversation with two Wheton faculty in which we talked about self-censorship and the work needed to address issues of “propriety” on a campus such as theirs. The evening was spent being stunned and delighted by a lecture by memoirist Lauren Winner. I can’t hope to adquately summarize a lecture that incorporated Paul, Hamlet, and Mr. Putter to examine Writing and Prayer. What I can do is repeat the idea that when Paul was praying in the jail cell, he wasn’t praying for a jail break; he wasn’t asking God to enter his story. Paul was praying to enter God’s story.

Amidst all this, my package of ales arrived. When I picked it up, I thought I smelt a whiff of something I shouldn’t. The package looked a bit worn. When I got it to my room, my fears escalated when upon opening the carton and the trash bag inside, I saw that the interior carton was soggy. Fortunately, there was only one fatality out of 12, and my careful packing meant that the damage was contained.

Tomorrow is the free day, and I have various ideas of what I am going to do, but no solid plans. We shall see.

Good night, lightning. Good night, thunder. Good night, window blinds that bang against the pane.

Into the groove. More workshopping. (this is a clapping group. rather odd.) More reading. Heard Valerie Sayers read a fantastic story about baseball. Ate more food. Pondered the reasons why God sends people to talk to me whom He knows annoy me. Continued work on combover poem. It’s very late, and my brain is now empty; the result of using it all day.