Just kidding--I did that last night, and I discovered what fisherfolk have always known. Fishing is a great excuse to stare into the surf, instead of staring at The Simpsons. We didn't catch anything, but we didn't expect to. I was simply trying to learn to cast, which will take me a long time, I suspect. My spouse, who is not as new to fishing as I am, may be able to actually catch a fish someday.
If you fished when you were little, but haven't fished since, do you really have an advantage over someone who never fished at all?
But I digress. I'm headed away to the creativity retreat I go to every year at Lutheridge. Yes, while the rest of the poetry world heads to the AWP conference in Denver, I'm going to a different set of mountains, in North Carolina.
The picture above is the lakehouse. Hopefully, my creative lake will be refreshed.
I expect to return to regular blogging on Tuesday, April 13.
A poet, a scholar, an administrator, a wanna-be mystic--always wrestling with the temptation to run away to join an intentional community--but would it be contemplative? social justice oriented? creative? in the mountains? in the inner city?--may as well stay planted and wrestle with these tensions and contradictions here, at the edge of America.