Oh no!

As I left today, I was thinking of toting two books with me: Catherine Ciepiela’s The Same Solitude and Why Poetry Matters by Jay Parini. And now, I’m going to be asking myself if I left them at home, or if at some point between there and here (the Library), I’ve left them lying about.
It’s frustrating, when I misplace a book, and I know this will dog my thought train until I find them, or come home to see them perched near my stack of DVDs to watch.
Has anyone here ever misplaced something, and how did it affect your day and your mindset?


Poetic debauchery, end of October.

I’m excited tonight. The weekend before Halloween is jam-packed: Alice In Wonderland at The Barnacle, costume parties and contests from West Palm to the Keys, and The Rocky Horror Picture Show playing at O Cinema. (To think, ten years ago, Miami was an indie theatre wasteland! Happily, things have changed.)
Closer to home, a new gallery is opening in the space that used to house Lion Video. While I’m still saddened that the place is gone, I’m thrilled to see another art venue–and it’s just a block away! Tonight is also the Famous Last Friday at Books & Books, and I have a new poem–Halloween-themed–just for the occasion. My sweet friend, Ozzie, has also mentioned inviting some other friends over for a little Hallows shindig. So I’m keeping my ears open there…
I’m also compiling a manuscript for publication. Set List will contain poetry I’ve written over this past year, including two sections of prose poetry and gogyokha. I want to have the pieces complete before the end of November, and submission ready.
Finished rereading Sweet Heaven When I Die; here is a book I want on my shelf, for life. Very resonant reading. Also have finished rereading Simon Sebag Montefiore. Stalin: The Court of the Red Tsar and Young Stalin are essential reading for anyone into Russian history, the Soviet era, or who wants an in-depth view of one of the most infamous, vicious tyrants of the 20th Century.

Rainy Monday

Yesterday (and today) have seen torrents of rain, coming down–so much so, that there’s a flood watch till eight this evening.
While I didn’t have any coffee, I did enjoy the pleasure of reading two books–one on Nick Drake, titled Darker Than the Deepest Sea: in Search of Nick Drake, by Trevor Dann, and Goodbye, Chunky Rice, a graphic novel by Craig Thompson. Also wrote three poems while inside.
I’m looking forward to this evening at Books and Books: Tigertailis launching their latest issue, and the Socrates Cafe is also meeting. Oh, dilemma, dilemma…

From the Silver Age: Tsvetaeva

Poems grow like stars, like flowers,
Like the beauty a family never needs.
And there’s only one answer possible
To praise, to apotheosis: why to me?

We sleep–and then, between the paving stones
The divine visitation, quatrefoil.
Understand me, world. The poet’s dream reveals
The laws of stars, the formula of flowers.

(August 14, 1918)

Marina Tsvetaeva ((1892-1941). From The Stray Dog Cabaret: A Book Of Russian Poems, selected and translated by Paul Schmidt (1934-1999). Edited by Catherine Ciepiela and Honor Moore.


Simon Sebag Montefiore is coming to Coral Gables’ Temple Judea on the 27th. He is a master historian, engaging, funny, and factual as anything. If you live in the area, pop by Books and Books, and request your ticket. http://conta.cc/pfZejI.


Cold rain, slate sky, high winds–the hazards of walking, on an October Saturday.

Beauty muscled its way–in blue spangles and Je Reviens–past bridesmaids and bartenders, paint guns in hand.

The evening sky:
crimson on grey,
cumulus to cirrus,
ghosted over
by October winds.

Hank built–panel by panel, note by note, chord by chord–every high-lonesome, twanging wail, into his house of music.

The pardoner, the summoner, the saucy wife–the motley lot, en route to Glastonbury: they each, every one, had a story to tell.

Copyright 2011, Antoinette M. Herrera.

True confession

I’ve become a crime drama nerd. Not entirely surprising, since I grew up on a steady diet of shows like Adam-12, Dragnet, Columbo, and the like. I just hadn’t counted on falling in love with the genre again.
But I did, thanks to Criminal Minds. (Of course, I also rediscovered my love of slash fanfiction, but that’s a ramble for another day.)

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