Welcome to Litsy!

Today‘s #libraryhaul
Did I finish even half of my last pile? Definitely not. I am way too ambitious at the library.
I did read Ghostopolis just now and started The Infinite Blacktop (she‘s one of my favorite authors). And I really hope to get through Only Human - I wasn‘t feeling it last time I got it out but I love the series! (Also: red book theme much?! Seriously, I have color issues.😆)

Okay, after this I really DO need to write my essay, so! #LitsyonLT PRO TIP FOR JOINING ONWARD LITSY ON FACEBOOK: Set your preferences for the fb group to either no notifications and you just see it when you actively go, or only notify when your fb friends post to the group. Makes a HUGE difference! The group hit 500 members within hours, and the volume of activity will push it to your feeds unless you change that. More in comments:

Patroclus, that‘s what! 😍 #poetrychallenge2018

The prompt for my paper is the author‘s belief that “When poetry works, it offers evidence that the reader is not alone, that someone else has felt and thought what the reader has felt.” And I read these lines and first think that the “man” is a transwoman or maybe a crossdresser, and then I see the “son” and think perhaps they are trans, but they‘re shopping for wife/Mom in his mind, and I NEVER would have thought of that. Heteros. 🙄😏🏳️‍🌈

I‘d never before have believed that I would sit down and open a book of poems one evening, flopping — not flipping — it open (because I keep folding it back it at the spine so its covers meet — sacrilege!) to think of my professor and how he reads poetry like I might listen to music. It comes over me all at once that each volume is an album, and of course we read and reread poems because what are they but songs that haven‘t yet been given a tune?

Multitasking dinner, homework, and the opening ceremony with the mancub. #poetrychallenge2018 #2018Olympics

I just read the last poem in the book we're to read for tomorrow's class. My prof and I walked out of class together Tuesday, as has become our habit, and when he said Dennis‘s poems are longer, more cerebral, I told him that‘s what‘s terrified me away from poetry for decades. He suggested that I start with this one, he thought I'd really like it.
I teared up 8 lines in.
Began crying in earnest at line 11.
Didn‘t stop.
Haven‘t stopped.