Returning the Poem to Its Natural Habitat

The reading I was a part of last night, "The Shape of Words to Come," was phenomenal. And I'm not saying that because I like the sound of my own voice, but because it was a true synergy of elements. Also, for some reason I wasn't nervous, which I think I'll attribute to the presence of so many friends.

LaunchPad, where it took place, was ideal. Apparently the guys who run the multipurpose art space secured funding through grants. It's intimate without being tiny, has a lovely backyard, and is generally a great and well-run setup. They were the perfect hosts.

For a taste of who to look for in poetry's near future, check out some of the poets' online publications:

Britt Gambino's Histology
Stephanie Paterik's In the Hammock

I used to want to stockpile my poems, as many of them are inspired by autobiography and in a sense I'm a private person. But this has been changing for the last several years, and the more I read and share, the less attached I feel to my work. It's like freeing an animal back into the wild--I take comfort in knowing that the poem's natural habitat is neither in me nor in you, but some middle distance where we continue to keep it alive together.