Lunch was meatloaf, rice, green beans and cornbread. I ate all the beans and cornbread, some of the rice, and a couple of bites of meatloaf. Why I bother to make meatloaf, I don't know. Gretchen and the stray cat don't even like it.
About the poem I posted yesterday and deleted today: It was meant to be satire, and at first I thought it was so funny. But then I began to hate it and feel guilty. Goodbye to "Naming the Beasts." Maybe satire offends most of all. At least it suggested man (male) as a poetic type instead of a pragmatist.
Jim R. posts an announcement on Facebook. On a day in January, all our great (published) Alabama poets will gather at the Museum of Something-Or-Other to sign and/or read from their books. With an "open mic" after the program. Part of me (the social being) wants to be one of them, but most of me (the hermit section) knows I never shall. If I publish my book, it will endure or (more likely) it won't, without a lot of showing off by me. And when the roll is called Up Yonder, I don't suppose it will matter one way or the other.
1 comment:
Well, it looks pretty good. And I enjoyed your poem! I wasn't offended.
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