Monday, January 5, 2015

French Meat Pie!

When I was in Green Bay, my mother in law, Lorraine, took me out to a charming European bakery for lunch. I could not resist the French Meat Pie--and I'm glad I gave in to temptation. The aroma alone transported me to a blissful place of comfort--warmth in a refuge from winter's bitter bite. I got the ingredients to make it today, and I'm going to make a pie for Noah's visit on Wednesday.

Your daily dose of cockatiel cuteness--now we have three babies!

More food for thought about the value of contemporary poetry--and its lack of popular appeal. The insularity bred by the MFA program-sponsored journals is famously decried by populist poets, and has been for awhile. As a poet without an MFA, this essay feels grindingly familiar; yet I'm writing a bit again and am determined not to be too easily discouraged.

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