Next year in West Chester

I have been looking with longing at the program for the 12th Annual West Chester University Poetry Conference: Exploring Form and Narrative. Among the offerings are workshops on rhyme with Dick Davis, meter with Timothy Steele, a master class with Mark Jarman, and a keynote address by James Fenton, who is also interviewed by Dana Gioia. Alas I can't fit it in this year, but perhaps I can make the thirteenth edition next year. Never been to Pennsylvania...

Back here on the Coast, I was minding my own business on Tuesday afternoon… well, to be truthful I was engaged in some anguished last minute edits of my poems for the final Form in Poetry class, when the phone rang and Peg said: so, we've just got some fresh crab, want to come over and help us eat it? I dithered for a number of seconds, remembering several ill-starred occasions under the sign of the crab back in my Edmonton days. Then I thought, well, maybe it was a passing thing. Maybe it was bad frozen crab crossed with too many libations. Maybe it was just time to give it another try. So I brought along a quiche lorraine for a back-up, but the crab was fresh and simple, boiled in salt water, needing nothing but a nice bit of french bread and salad. And it went well with gin! The best news was that I suffered no ill-effects at all, so that strikes off the only food I've ever believed I was allergic, or at least intolerant to. I am grateful.