Monday, April 29, 2013



     Those sometimes awkward, sometimes curvaceous figures that get together and make up

     Those sometimes gentle, sometimes caustic accumulations of letters that get together and make up 

     Those sometimes rambling, sometimes concise accumulations of words that get together and make up

Stories and Poems
     Those sometimes heart wrenching, sometimes comic accumulations of sentences or fragments of sentences that get together and make up life


And life without stories, poems, sentences, words, and letters would be so much less enticing. That's my poem-y thing for today.

Those letters in the photo at the top? They're from outside Dark Table, the restaurant on West 4th in Vancouver that lets you experience what it's like to live in darkness. I went with a friend tonight and if you find yourself in Vancouver and are looking for something a little—no, a lot—different I recommend you try it. The servers are blind or sight-impaired. The room you enter is so dark you can't see your hand in front of your face, even after you've been there for awhile. That was perhaps the most disconcerting part of the evening; waiting in vain for my eyes to grow accustomed to the dark. Our waiter was from Togo and immediately put us at ease, or as at ease as we were able, given our newly imposed lack of sight. On the website they say that when one sense is compromised the others tend step up to the plate (I'm paraphrasing and I'm sorry!), and we certainly found that to be the case. Taste and smell became paramount. The music in the background was easy to listen to. Oh, and the food? Absolutely, unreservedly fabulous. Go!

Keys on the typewriter, keys on the piano, and Enid has the keys to my heart!
Yesterday, after the reunion poets broke up and went their separate ways, I got to visit with two very special young ladies who belong to the Victoria end of the family. You have to love a kid who wants a typewriter! 

Read to me!

And you have to love a kid who brings you a book and snuggles up beside you so you'll read to her. And yes, it was a rhyming story about a witch who broke her broomstick. Very well done, too. 

And that is my penultimate post for Poetry Month! 


No comments: