If I were HOF lefty Bert Blyleven, I’d circle Geoff Herbach, Candace Black, Nick Healy, Kevin Langton, Edward Micus, Tina Gross, Michael Torres, Nate Leboutillier, Angie Mauch, fellow readers Jose Felipe Ozuna, Ailee Slater, star of the show the eminent Richard Robbins, and Poor Farm Studios hosts Brian Frink and Wilbur Neushwander-Frink. They are all pictured in one or another of the photos here from our reading last night, just outside of the city limits of Mankato, Minn., organized by Rick to launch his new (and amazing) book, The Oratory of Souls (Lynx House Press).
It was cold, as it still gets here in April. I wore goose down for the outdoor portions of the event. I read from A Northern Spring in the same, still warming up from being outside. The snow to come was a few hours from arriving. I met a lot of others pictured here whose names I don't recall, but thanks and thanks again to all who come out in the blustery weather to hear people read their poetry and prose. My reading went, finally, according to plan. Not only that, it felt organic—not like following a plan at all.
Brian built a wood-burning outdoor brick pizza oven in the yard of the Poor Farm Studios, and Rick supplied wine, beer, and soft drinks. Brian made me an anchovy, Kalamata, and carmelized onion pie. It’s said to be Picasso’s favorite. I have been to the Picasso museum in Paris. There isn’t a lot one wants to have in common with Pablo as presented there. But a taste in za? I’ll take that.
Rick had bios printed out and asked each of us to introduce the reader that followed us. I was the penultimate reader and was slated to introduce Rick, former teacher, former mentor, fellow struggling poet, forever friend. He said I didn't have to follow the script if I didn't want to. I didn't want to. I spoke contemporaneously. Praising Rick is an easy thing do.
IMAGES: Upper left: short video of April (no shit) in Minnesota. Upper right: Under the tent and around the the fire and in blankets as we enjoy Brian's pizzas and Rick's libations at the Poor Farm Studios. Lower right: a packed-to-the-gills reading space inside the Poor Farm Studios.
It was cold, as it still gets here in April. I wore goose down for the outdoor portions of the event. I read from A Northern Spring in the same, still warming up from being outside. The snow to come was a few hours from arriving. I met a lot of others pictured here whose names I don't recall, but thanks and thanks again to all who come out in the blustery weather to hear people read their poetry and prose. My reading went, finally, according to plan. Not only that, it felt organic—not like following a plan at all.
Brian built a wood-burning outdoor brick pizza oven in the yard of the Poor Farm Studios, and Rick supplied wine, beer, and soft drinks. Brian made me an anchovy, Kalamata, and carmelized onion pie. It’s said to be Picasso’s favorite. I have been to the Picasso museum in Paris. There isn’t a lot one wants to have in common with Pablo as presented there. But a taste in za? I’ll take that.
Rick had bios printed out and asked each of us to introduce the reader that followed us. I was the penultimate reader and was slated to introduce Rick, former teacher, former mentor, fellow struggling poet, forever friend. He said I didn't have to follow the script if I didn't want to. I didn't want to. I spoke contemporaneously. Praising Rick is an easy thing do.
IMAGES: Upper left: short video of April (no shit) in Minnesota. Upper right: Under the tent and around the the fire and in blankets as we enjoy Brian's pizzas and Rick's libations at the Poor Farm Studios. Lower right: a packed-to-the-gills reading space inside the Poor Farm Studios.