In which Your Humble Blogger marks the start of National Poetry Month by not posting any poems:
Oh, glorious sense of timing! I've wanted to do another picture-heavy process post (hey, some alliteration, at least!) for a while; it just happens that today's the best day in my stretch of planned posts to do it.
And that today is April Fool's. No pranks here, I promise. I'm not good at pulling them off.
What I am good at is finding things in the bargain book bins at bookstores that make me happy. I imagine that some people carry with them an image of the writer who, when it was time to begin working at the craft for the day, took a gorgeously bound tome from the shelf or assembled a ream of high-quality paper and, fountain pen in hand, effortlessly began to etch h words onto the page. Alternatively, for some, the image of the daily writer may still be that of Doogie Howser.
This is what I write poetry in:
A couple bucks at Borders bought me this little goodie, a 256-page wonder with an elastic band to keep it shut and a silicone cover, excellent for people like me who tend to spill their beverages.
Also less than glamorous? I write poetry in pencil:
As romantic as the notion of poetry as a fleeting expression of the self may be... I type most of my poems up some time after I write them and save them to a memory card.
My notebook isn't the only bargain book I've found that's made me happy, not by far. This was spotted at the used bookstore not long ago:
And another impressive title:
I love books.