For whatever reason, I’ve been on a poetry bender. Almost half the books that I have checked out from the library are poetry collections. I’m also getting back into the habit of writing a few lines of my own. (Go figure: everyone’s in novel mode because of NaNoWriMo and here I am, all poetry all the time. Out of sync as always.)
Last night, I finished School of the Arts by Mark Doty – you know how much I love him – and his sixth collection, Source, is next on the pile. I also have Everything Is Burning by Gerald Stern; Shattered Sonnets Love Cards and Other Off and Back Handed Importunities by Olena Kalytiak Davis; Gabriel, by Edward Hirsch; The Glad Hand of God Points Backward, by Rachel Mennies; The Nearness of You, by Carolyn Kizer (as well as Yin, Pro Femina, and Midnight Was My Cry) and all of Terrance Hayes’ books in the queue.
In commemoration of the 25th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall, I want to spend some time today in the world of Ada and Stefan, the young lovers living on opposite sides of the Berlin Wall in Going Over by Beth Kephart. It has been on my night table for awhile and today, moreso than any other, seems to be fitting to read this.
I’d also hoped to read Her Own Vietnam by Lynn Kanter for a Veteran’s Day post. Like Beth, Lynn is a friend and her novel about a Vietnam’s nurse’s memories about her wartime service has been high on my list to read for while.
On audio, I’m still listening to the ever-so-creepy Drood by Dan Simmons. I am in the minority with my fellow #Droodalong participants and am still invested and even liking this story; however, at page 560, it’s getting time to move on. I don’t have the patience to spend more than a month listening to the same audio book, even though this is fascinating and the research that must have gone into this is incredible.
(That said, part of me will be glad if the phrase “my dear reader” or discussions of consuming laudanum don’t enter my reading life for awhile.)