No postings on here for over a week. I apologize. I was in San Francisco, where I rarely left Market St. Certainly a different SF experience for me.
Poets convened there. We didn't see anyone "famous"--no Foust, no Bob Hass and squeaky-voiced wife, no CLAY BANES or Jasper Bernes. Joseph Massey, Andrew Mister, and Betsy Wheeler, however, had a gay old time.
Emphasis on "gay." Can you say man-on-man erotic massage? I didn't participate, of course, but I did see Massey without his pants on.
The ghost of James Meetze floated through the trash-covered streets, caterwauling a newly brutal song.
All of this has nothing to do with the title of this post. Some have suggested that this blog's name is politically incorrect. Am I wrong to scoff at this suggestion? Weigh in in the comment box, please.