Home again, home again.

final note to Clark

they had it wrong,
the old comics.
you are only clark kent
after all. oh,
mild mannered mister,
why did i think you could fix it?
how you must have wondered
to see me taking chances,
dancing on the edge of words,
pointing out the bad guys,
dreaming your x-ray vision
could see the beauty in me.
what did i expect? what
did i hope for? we are who we are,
two faithful readers,
not wonder woman and not superman

                              — Lucille Clifton


Drove home tonight then turned around and went to KGB to hear Robin Black read with Zoe Heller.  It was a great reading, and it was really lovely to reintroduce myself to Robin afterwards.  I chose not to finish her book before going to the reading, hoping she’d choose to read one of the stories I hadn’t gotten to yet.  And, happy chance, she did.  I love first encountering a story as it’s being read to me, especially when it’s being read by the person who wrote it.  Not that hearing a story I already know isn’t also a pleasure.  Of course it is, but it’s a different pleasure.  Can I just say again what a wonderful writer Robin is?  Each of the stories I’ve read so far and the one she read tonight blow me away. 

It’s a long time since I’ve been to a reading like this one: small, cozy, uber-cool bar in the East Village filled with small, young, uber-cool people.  I felt decidedly out of place … but also not.  We were all there for the same thing, all there because we like books, because we like stories, because we like being read to.  Maybe we don’t share one other thing in common, but when I realized what we do have in common, my discomfort faded and I found myself at ease.

Where do I fit
not really here.  Somewhere
else?  This isn’t it.
Do I care
so much?  I’m here to share
this closeness, this silence
one voice, one breath, intense.

This week to come is supposed to bring me some news.  I should find out if I’ve been chosen to participate in the workshop I applied for at the beginning of the month.  (Oh yes, I do know what a good thing it is that I didn’t apply as a poet!)  Knowing the announcements will be made means that every night when I check my gmail, I’ll be holding my breath.  Think a lovely thought or two for me, would you please?


2 thoughts on “Home again, home again.

  1. Molly

    My thoughts are promised, will do.
    I bet that more than one of the uber-cool young people was checking you out, wondering who that exotic woman is. Must be somebody really cool. Look, she’s talking to Robin!


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