07-16-2022, 07:54 AM
There's a video of James Dickey reading Under Buzzards in the presence of Robert Penn Warren.
I've posted it before, in the Poems You Love section. I don't necessarily love these poems, love is something that is spontaneous and individual, you give it out just anywhere, and it gets cheapened. . . . Yet, I'm no one to complain, and will have to settle to get it where I can get it.
I'm bad with math of all kinds.
I said in a previous post that I was about eight miles from the North Carolina line. I also made a poem called Countyline Liquor Store, which, it sounds better than Stateline Liquor Store. And, technically, it is a county line. You can buy liquor in this North Carolina county, but not my Virginia county.
I'm about a mile and a half away.
And not even that, if I go through the woods. The woods are feral, the roads are bluesy.
I wanted to make these things clear, since they matter to me.
But I'll save face by getting back to you, damn, I forgot your name, you shouldn't have used your real one. No, I'm kidding, Markel Becker.
I have family in the wealthy parts of Virginia, the areas where they vote Democrat.
I'm taking this opportunity to spill out a few folk details of my own, and asking you now, as a challenge: Is there much folklore of your area of the state? I know there is. And will you write a poem on the matter? That's my challenge, HERE IN THE FOR FUN SECTION.
And I'd be glad to read a poem or story or personal anecdote.
And this is not restricted to the For Fun area. But the electric dog collar that gets closer and closer to my neck and testicles is giving me good reason to only speak from the HEART. Or else and even then.
Look up that, video, Mark Becker, then:
Tell me a story.
I've posted it before, in the Poems You Love section. I don't necessarily love these poems, love is something that is spontaneous and individual, you give it out just anywhere, and it gets cheapened. . . . Yet, I'm no one to complain, and will have to settle to get it where I can get it.
I'm bad with math of all kinds.
I said in a previous post that I was about eight miles from the North Carolina line. I also made a poem called Countyline Liquor Store, which, it sounds better than Stateline Liquor Store. And, technically, it is a county line. You can buy liquor in this North Carolina county, but not my Virginia county.
I'm about a mile and a half away.
And not even that, if I go through the woods. The woods are feral, the roads are bluesy.
I wanted to make these things clear, since they matter to me.
But I'll save face by getting back to you, damn, I forgot your name, you shouldn't have used your real one. No, I'm kidding, Markel Becker.
I have family in the wealthy parts of Virginia, the areas where they vote Democrat.
I'm taking this opportunity to spill out a few folk details of my own, and asking you now, as a challenge: Is there much folklore of your area of the state? I know there is. And will you write a poem on the matter? That's my challenge, HERE IN THE FOR FUN SECTION.
And I'd be glad to read a poem or story or personal anecdote.
And this is not restricted to the For Fun area. But the electric dog collar that gets closer and closer to my neck and testicles is giving me good reason to only speak from the HEART. Or else and even then.
Look up that, video, Mark Becker, then:
Tell me a story.