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I went with Jean, one of my nine or so muses. She is a poet and has had several poems published.
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| Jean in the foreground and Donna Vorreyer reading in the background |
And I read a poem I wrote about my boyfriend Michel
Ode to Michel (my bell)
Michel was a black and white picture. Even taken with color film. Achromatic and anachronistic it turned out he spent most of his life looking into old books and reading older texts. So many that he too was black and white. His hair made up of black or white letters, a language lost today. His eyes periods..
His smile in quotes. His front teeth old tablets. Perhaps of Moses.
His skin Papyrus, only sees the sun when running from one book to another
He told me he was reading
The Aeneid by Publius Virgilius Maro, in Latin.
He told me that in the classic Greek and Roman tales, such as The Odyssey and the Aeneid, the hero tends to go into the underworld.
I told him to be a hero already, and save me, in Berwyn.
I read it to a whole twenty or so people. And I didn't shake or cry. Yay
I enjoyed the other poetry a lot.
