It’s been a great week of fun over at Tweetspeak Poetry — here’s my quick digest, of great articles worth your time.
There is not a single more recognizable southern drink than sweet tea, except maybe Kentucky bourbon. And if one were to combine the former with the latter, one might find a sort of southern drink Nirvana.
— Seth Haines has a weekly community poetry prompt on Mondays, this month writing found poems together around the theme of tea.
I steady myself for the cardboard colors to come:
Dun, amber, sepia sweeping over ungrazed prairie.
— Glynn Young reviews Judith Valente’s Discovering Moons
The recent discovery of a third daguerreotype of Victorian-era poet Emily Dickinson has historians scratching their heads. Long believed to be reclusive and camera-shy, Dickinson seems to paint an entirely new picture of herself, positively mugging for the paparazzi.
— A Tweetspeak exclusive report on the possible discovery of a new Emily Dickinson portrait. (This might explain why I was unable to complete my journalism studies.)
L.L. tagged me on Facebook to come but I was busy that night. Lucky me. [smiley face] Poetry is nonsense. And cryptic.
Tweetspeak’s managing editor and I enjoyed poetry readings on the same terrace where Edith Wharton and Henry James sat “on summer nights, reading Walt Whitman’s ‘Leaves of Grass’ aloud.” Not once did security try to escort us to the gate.
— It’s my week to bring you the best poetic news you can use (or leave sitting on the table). This week, it’s engineered poetry, who to blame for overdue books, and how to talk about classics you’ve never read in our Top Ten Poetic Picks.
I thought of my own life and its lack of transition. My own spiritual tradition ritualizes very few rites of passage: birth, marriage, childbirth, and death. Our larger culture celebrates only a few other markers: driving at 16 and drinking at 21.
— Charity Singleton talks about life transition through the lens of the art museum.
Still here? It’s way more fun over at Tweetspeak…
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Top photo: Dinner table at The Mount, Edith Wharton’s mansion in Lenox, Mass.