We've been hard at work in the poetry mines today so I'm posting pictures. Right now the poets are relaxing before dinner. Wine has been poured (and one small taste of tequila pour moi). Blue cheese, flat pretzels, grapes, dried apples, kalamata olives are floating around the table and into poets' mouths. Discussion has turned to chocolate bars from days of yore. I expect sooner or later a poem will be birthed tonight. Which is as it should be during National Poetry Month.
|Fat, one-legged robin. Almost a chicken-robin, you might say.|
|More reading. More listening.|
|Here's to Al|
|Lenora came all the way from California|
|We did some work, too|
|Food! There's nothing more dangerous than a hungry poet.|
|See what I mean?|