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Thursday, April 14, 2016

One Day Too Late!

Ed came on Wednesday and chalked an Anaïs Nin poem on the sidewalk by the bookstore door. In honor of National Poetry Month, our little township library was hosting an “Open Mic” night on Wednesday. I could restrain myself here and not go into how the shortened name for microphone was ‘mike’ when I was young, spelled the way it sounds, and how ‘mic’ looks like ‘mick’ to me, but you see how far my self-restraint goes. The spelling, of course, does not affect the quality of such an event, and it is to the credit of our librarians and Friends of the Library that they plan so well.

When time came to close the bookstore for the day, we had some visitors so did not rush away. And I had to walk over to the grocery store. Then on the way home it was only fair that Sarah should have time to run, after hours in the shop. And when we get home, it falls to me to get dinner on the table. So after dinner, I let David go back to Northport alone for the poetry evening (which he said was very nice and well attended) while I lazed in the evening sun, reading short stories.

On Thursday the FedEx man came to Dog Ears Books. I see Dan, the UPS man, on a regular basis but Jerry, the FedEx man, not so often. What was he bringing me? It was a book of poetry from Dolan & Associates, publishers in Colorado Springs. The book was titled Where Do Things Go? The poet was – still is – Marcy Heidish.

I opened the book at random and found a poem called “The Bakery,” and I thought, How Northport! I flipped a couple pages back and found one called “Once Upon a Time,” written about the magic of bookstores. Suddenly I wanted to turn back the clock! I wanted it to be Wednesday again, so I could take this book to the library and stand up at the microphone and read to the local audience about places and experiences familiar and important to them. A lost opportunity!

Well, the book comes a day late for me to read from it at the library, but it is still appropriate for National Poetry Month, so I’ll be putting a couple copies on my book order next week. (“Mud Time” and “Spring” are poems I intend to read as soon as I finish posting this little vignette and return to printed pages.) I’ll only take another minute now to note that my Wayne State University Press order arrived today, which means I have available copies of Seasonal Roads, besides the ones reserved for early bird customers.

The magic of packages!

The magic of books!



Gerry said...

Ooh packages - I love packages.

I'm at home at this very moment trying to decide whether to go to something I would like to hear . . . or stay home and relax. I ran around a lot for one day. Wasn't it a pretty day though?

P. J. Grath said...

Look for a package soon in YOUR mail, Gerry. I shipped out your book order this morning. :)

Deborah said...

Am wondering if Fleda Brown's father would like to read _Where Do Things Go?_ What do you think?

P. J. Grath said...

He might, Deborah. I'll mention it. Did you see the Record-Eagle article about him on Sunday? You'd have had to see it online, I guess. Anyway, nice!

The poems in the book make me think a little of Billy Collins, in that they are accessible, i.e., not difficult and confusing. Not a bad thing.