I was slated to listen to this brilliant man read poetry today. He's a former California State University - Fresno professor, with deep roots in our community. Had planned to go to a private reception and public reading of his work. Had a book all ready for his signature. Was hopeful that through some mystical form of osmosis, the communion of our hands shaking might transmit brilliance from his fingers into mine. Unfortunately, my body and the flu gods had other plans. Last night I felt foreign aliens circulating through my veins, taking over, declaring me down for the weekend. Head pounding, throat scratchy, I surrendered.
Apologies, Poet Levine. Here I sit, instead - pen in hand, writing like a mad woman, inspiration courtesy of Nyquil and Advil, scribbling an array of narratives while dressed in my grubbiest sweats, thick socks warming chilled feet, sipping hot tea and awaiting a few good stanzas.